Before the Dawn
by artemis-nz
Summary: Two men, bound together as surely as the world continues to spin. But are they each running away from something, or merely towards each other? An AU piece set roughly around the events of Ruttenberg. Conrad/Yuuri.
1. Chapter I: Meeting

**A few important notes. **

**First, I haven't written any continuous multi-chaptered fics in a good long while, so frankly, I'm nervous. Please excuse my rustiness. **

**Second, this particular piece has been on my mind for quite some time – ever since chapter 45 ('Into the Dark') of **_**Full Circle**_** in fact, which is mostly what inspired this work. **_**Before the Dawn**_** is essentially a full (and somewhat altered) version of the events I touched on previously in that earlier drabble, which are set in a slightly alternative version of KKM just prior to and during the events of Ruttenberg. A big shout-out goes to Coco Reed who prompted me a while ago to continue things; after much pondering and dawdling about, this is what I've come up with. Being an AU piece, obviously the storyline won't adhere strictly to canon, although much of what occurs in the anime will be used here. On that note, I also wish to greatly thank pyrrhicvictoly, who chased down some of the lesser known details of the light novels for me – a few of which will likewise be scattered throughout this story.**

**Third and finally, I don't know yet how long the fic will be, or even exactly where it will go – although I have several ideas I'm messing around with. Comments, suggestions, whatever are all very welcome. Expect updates roughly once a week, or possibly once every two weeks if RL stuff keeps me busy.**

**Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Conrart was running.

His breath coming in loud gasps now, boots thumping on the cobblestones, he darted around townspeople – merchants loudly hawking their wares, children playing games with small coloured stones, a pair of squabbling old women. Some meat was being roasted on a spit. There were a group of heavily bearded men throwing down cards at a rickety table. A baby cried noisily, its older sister – or possibly very young mother – trying in vain to comfort it. Dust and dirt and god knew what else stained the streets and made him want to cover his mouth. The sights and smells and sounds enveloped him, swallowing him up until he was just another one of many, vanished in the swarm of bodies.

Exactly how he wanted it. Somewhere behind and a little to the left of him, Josak gave an exuberant whoop, his long skirts trailing absurdly behind him. "Lost 'em, Conrad!" he called, using the shortened version of Conrart's name. One of the very few people Conrart allowed to do so.

Conrart slowed around the next corner, leaning up against the shade of a twisted doorframe, and Josak thumped down beside him, grinning widely. "Told you it would work." His roguish enthusiasm was infectious, and Conrart felt the corners of his mouth tilt upwards in response, despite the anger that constantly seemed to burn within him, deep down where it smouldered like coals. "You did", he agreed. "Care to tell me why you thought the dress was necessary?"

"Had to come up with a good distraction, didn't I? The art of seduction. What do you think? Not my colour?"

Personally, Conrart couldn't look past the way the bright pink of the fabric clashed with Josak's hair, but Josak didn't wait for a response. "If men these days don't appreciate women on the more muscular side, that's hardly my fault", he went on, unconcerned. "Now that we're both free of our respective prisons though, allow me to slip into something more comfortable", he winked, and started to peel of the dress, revealing a thankfully more nondescript outfit underneath. Conrart felt his mouth twitch again as he hid his amusement.

It had been several weeks since Conrart had seen Josak, separated as they were by different training schools. They shared a few moments of companionable silence, waiting for their breath to even back out. Conrart spared a quick, dispassionate glance out from their makeshift hiding place, but could neither see nor hear anything of his instructors. No doubt von Christ was out there somewhere, attempting to track Conrart down like a disapproving mother hen. Well, he would be searching a long time. Conrart had no intention of going back – not until much later, when he could lie down and let blackness claim him for a time. If he was lucky, he might even be able sleep uninterrupted for a few hours before his own ugly thoughts stole back into his head, filling him back up the heated restlessness he had come to know so well. He would gladly consent to be wrapped completely up in the shadows if it meant he could have even a full night's peace…

Then Josak was pushing himself back from the doorframe, shaking his bright orange bangs from his eyes and smirking, dispelling Conrart's musings. "Now that we're out, want to get a drink? On you this time – I'm your dashing savior, after all, helping you break out of there like the delicate young flower you are. Even if I was the one in a lady's gown."

Responsibility nagged at Conrart. He was, despite everything, a son of the current royal family as well as a soldier; he shouldn't be shirking his tasks, setting a bad example for his youngest brother, making his mother worry-

"You're doing it again." Josak scattered his thoughts, jostling him playfully.

"Doing what?"

"Over-thinking it."

Conrart made a conscious effort to relax his shoulders. They always seemed to betray him these days – a tenseness he could not seem to be able to shake, no matter how much wine he drank or how often he broke free from his duties, dashing unchecked through the town with Josak usually hot on his heels. It made his neck and back ache and his jaw clench and his hands curl into fists-

"-Stop it. Come on, I'm dying of thirst here. Look, I'll even shout the first round", Josak pressed, and Conrart allowed himself to be swept back out into the milling throng. At a more sedate pace, he let the surge carry him along, this time trailing Josak as his longtime friend led them to one of their frequent drinking spots. No, it was not the first time – and almost certainly would not be the last, either.

But Conrart could not fault Josak for trying to distract him, and knew that however isolated he might feel, he was not alone in his feeling of entrapment. It was like a noose; one that gradually tightened day by day as empty, faceless spectators stared and hissed and jeered. They spat on him, just as they spat on Josak for being somehow less than they were, in spite of their hollowness. Less _what_ exactly, Conrart couldn't quite say. Less noble, perhaps. Less honourable. Less worthy. A half-breed. But he was not a chastised dog, that he would whimper and cower in an effort to please or placate his so-called betters. He would turn on his 'masters' and sink his teeth into their flesh before that day came.

Unconsciously, his fingernails were digging into his palm again. Conrart let out his breath in an explosive sigh. What was one more drink to try and help him forget?

And so he pushed the dark, unwelcome thoughts away and followed Josak further into the crowd.

* * *

A fist, hard and unforgiving, connected solidly with Conrart's face. He inhaled sharply, but there was no cracking sound – only a brief burst of pain flowering colourfully to life, almost welcome. Anything to divert his attention from the bitterness rearing up inside him like a caged animal. Right on cue, Josak gave a feral laugh and wiped his nose, where blood streamed bright and steady beneath it. He lunged towards their attackers, feinting left and then striking out with his right hand. There was definitely a crack then – not from Josak's hand, but from their attacker's head as it crashed into the nearest table. Conrart wasn't worried; even as drunk as he was, Josak knew how to hold his punches so as not to deal any truly serious damage.

"What do you say, Conrad? I take the right, you the left!"

"Take it outside, boys!" The owner was short and squat, and no stranger to tavern brawls. He shook a meaty fist in Conrart's direction. "I know you two. Out, before you break any more of my furniture! Or noses. These lugs pay good money too, you know."

"They started it!" someone called out. Conrart couldn't tell if whoever it was happened to be on his side or not, but it didn't really matter. None of it mattered, so long as he could leave his cage behind, even for a few moments, and let the rage rise up and out. The hunger had taken a hold of him now, and he wanted to roar and tear and claw his way to oblivion, black eye be damned. He couldn't even recall now what had sparked it. A stray remark perhaps; a barbed comment about crossbreeding and street filth that may or may not have been aimed at him in the first place. Josak had taken immediate offense though, and Conrart had of course jumped to back up Josak, and then there was nothing beyond the tight, sweaty press of too many bodies packed into one room, the bitter tang of beer and wine and spirits invading his nostrils.

Someone grabbed hold of his arm, and Conrart shook the hand off impatiently. Josak was swearing, someone had picked up a mug and looked about to swing it on top of another man's head, and the owner was yelling something as the heap turned into a mob. It moved and swayed, eventually sweeping him outside amid numerous voices shouting at once, any actual words lost to the overall din.

"Josak!" Conrart had lost sight of him, somewhere in the thick roiling mass.

"Here!" came the answering call, but then Conrart was desperately fighting as several men came at him at once, and he and Josak were separated further. He landed several decent blows himself before the crush of too many aggressors overwhelmed him, pressing him against cold stone. He made to swing out again, and some idiot crashed into him, laughing crazily and sending him slamming back into the wall. Then his arms were being pinned behind him, and Conrart bent double as he was struck soundly in the stomach. He retched, choking as he was released.

"I'll kick your teeth out, you dirty rat!"

"Hands off him, you cheating bastards! I said let _go_-!" Josak's voice was abruptly cut off, and there came more scuffling sounds from around them. The majority of the crowd had parted and was going back inside, and the scrap had become a real fight. Bystanders and casual brawlers slipped quietly away, back inside or safely into the night, until only the hard-bitten, pinch-faced men accustomed to real ruthlessness or cruelty were left.

"He's not got any money on him lads, might as well let him rot-"

Conrart snarled something – he didn't know what – and straightened up, lashing blindly out. His instincts were sound though, and his knee connected with something solid. A groin, judging by the sounds he had just elicited.

"You little shit-"

"Oi! Guards, let's scram!"

Conrart's finely tuned ears had caught it too – the harsh clink of steel as a patrol wandered nearby, attracted no doubt by the sounds of their struggle. Not that he wanted to stick around any more than his attackers did; he had no wish to be escorted back to the training school like a wayward child.

The man directly in front of him seized him by the collar of his shirt. "Something to remember me by." All the air left Conrart's lungs at once as he was hit – not in the stomach again as he had expected, but this time to the side of his head. An object too, not merely a hand. Something blunt but hard, like some kind of makeshift baton. He sensed rather than felt the blood begin to drip down the base of his skull, soaking his hair and trickling past his neck. The world wavered around him as the men ran off. Cowards, all.

Conrart took a step, then another when he did not fall. Josak. Where was Josak? He had to find… so angry, but had to get to him before…

The night sky was wheeling confusedly above him. When had he come to lie down? Dazed, he tried to search for a familiar landmark, but his eyesight was failing him. Either he had drunk too much, or been hit too hard, or was losing enough blood that-

"Oh!"

There was a soft gasp. Not his own, Conrart was sure. Not Josak's, either. He tried to get up, to defend himself once more, but his hands met only empty air.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise-"

Conrart growled, low and furious.

"Alright, alright", the voice soothed him. "I'll just wait until you're ready to walk again." The unnamed person sounded sympathetic. Gentle, even, and unbearably kind. But that was impossible, because nobody who saw Conrart in his current state could be anything but disappointed, repulsed, or a mixture of the two. "It's alright", the voice continued, and to Conrart's astonishment, he felt a cool hand touching his brow, brushing the too-long hair from his forehead. He could not remember the last time he had been touched with such tenderness. "I've got you. You're safe now. I won't leave you alone."

Conrart shook his head, forcing his sight to clear. A pair of anxious eyes stared back down at him, dark as fine ink. They stood out from the pale face as though lit up from within, calling Conrart on from somewhere. But where? Where…?

_Conrad!_

He must have imagined that part, because this stranger, whoever he was, could not have known his name, much less the one reserved for his closest friends.

And then he was falling, falling… and running again, running away from the pain, following nothing but the darkness that came to swallow him whole.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	2. Chapter II: Pull

Water.

That was Conrart's first impression upon dragging himself up from the abyss. It was like being pulled out of a deep river after being submerged for some time – he felt weak and shaky, but clean too, and newer somehow. He supposed, he thought a little groggily, that it was because he could hear actual water somewhere nearby. Not the rush of a river though, but the slow, mesmerizing _plop, plop_ of water being wrung out into a basin. Like whoever was doing it was taking great care to squeeze the cloth just so.

Conrart held his breath for a moment as the dripping gradually slowed and eventually ceased altogether. Sure enough, a few seconds later he felt the damp material being applied to his face. Carefully, it moved beneath the bangs of his hair, then down to wipe beside his eyes, ears, nose, mouth. The soldier could think of only one person who would ever touch him so gently now, but judging by the unmistakably masculine humming that accompanied the hand holding the cloth, there was no way it could be his mother. Not Josak, either. The pitch was not deep enough, and Josak would never treat Conrart as though he were afraid of him breaking. Josak's friendship was rougher, more casual than that.

But this person, this… whoever it was, felt like someone Conrart had once known, long ago, but also long forgotten. Somebody special, but not a relative, nor even simply a friend. The feeling went far deeper than that – like it was maybe back under that rushing river and Conrart had left it behind upon surfacing. It pulled at him, calling his name softly but insistently, as though it was a name to be loved and treasured…

But that was impossible.

Conrart's eyes fluttered open, and the humming abruptly stopped. "You're awake!" the voice said instead, concern and surprise mingling together. "I thought you would sleep a while more. It isn't yet dawn."

Conrart could not blink. Could not even draw breath for a moment as his gaze lay, transfixed, on the boy. No, not the boy, Conrart corrected himself. The man. He was young, yes, but not that young. Those dancing black eyes had fooled him for a moment, but the face framed by hair just as dark as the eyes was too lean to be a child's… and for all the laughter contained somewhere within him, there were dark circles that gave an almost sorrowful gravity to his expression. A shadow lay there, subtle and elusive, yet not so far down that Conrart could not sense it.

"Who…" His own voice came out husky and strained, and Conrart hid his pain as he swallowed. His head began to pound in earnest, and his whole body seemed to ache as soon as he broke the silence.

"Here. Drink." The distress swirling plain to see in those dark eyes practically blinded him. The hard, obstinate part of Conrart wanted to resist, to pull back immediately from such worry for his own wellbeing, but this person obviously meant him no harm. His hand shook, curse it, as he lifted the proffered cup to his lips.

"I'm Yuuri", his rescuer said.

_Yuuri._ Had he heard it somewhere before? Perhaps a long time ago? It had an unusual ring to it, but double-blacks were rare enough to command instant attention, and Conrart could put no proper memory to the name. This man had to be a lord of some kind, although Conrart was sure that Yuuri was not from around here. He made a point of knowing at least by sight every single castle inhabitant and their hangers-on, but for all the teasing sensation that he had met Yuuri sometime before, Conrart would also bet everything he owned that this was his first time seeing him.

"My lord, I-"

"-Just Yuuri, please", the younger man smiled.

"Yuuri…?" Conrart prompted.

"How about you tell me _your_ name first?" Amusement laced Yuuri's tone.

Belatedly, Conrart realised he had not yet introduced himself. But then… "You don't know it?"

Yuuri cocked his head to one side, curious. "No. Should I?"

"I thought I heard you call me by name before, when you found me. But, I…" Conrart trailed off, uncertain now that he tried to recall the moment in which they had first met.

"You were nearly unconscious. I didn't think you could hear me say anything. Regardless, I do not know your name." Yuuri looked at him, the hint of a smile still playing about his lips. "Unless of course you would rather not tell me. I will of course respect your privacy, if that is what you wish. Although any name with which I may call you by, at least for the moment, would be helpful."

He found himself returning that smile in spite of himself. In spite of everything. "Conrart", he said, extending his hand. "My name is Conrart."

"Con… rart?" Yuuri asked hesitantly.

"Conrad, if it's difficult to say", he volunteered, surprising himself. Why had he said that? He allowed hardly anybody to call him that – now only Josak referred to him as 'Conrad' with any regularity. Had anybody else tried, Conrart probably would have struck them where they stood. As it was, he felt the words tumble from his mouth with astonishing easiness.

"Conrad it is, then", Yuuri said, and Conrart felt something well up inside of him – as yet unnamable, but somehow all the more precious for that.

Then the pain returned from wherever it had receded with full force, and Conrart knew no more for a time.

* * *

He must have slept again, because when he once more became fully aware of his surroundings, the sun was shining bright through the window. Dawn had long since passed – by Conrart's best guess, it was approaching midmorning. He turned his head to see Yuuri, crouched down on the floor with his legs folded neatly beneath him, head resting on the bed in which Conrart currently lay. Yuuri's arms were serving as his pillow, and he was breathing deeply and evenly, his eyes closed. Conrart watched them flutter under their lids as though caught in a dream. He had the strangest urge to reach out and touch Yuuri, although could not have said why.

In fact, now that Conrart thought about it, he felt remarkably better. His head was clear – clearer than it had been in weeks, in fact. He reached up to his hair, but there was no bandage – perhaps the wound had not been as bad as he had feared? There had seemed a lot of blood, but then again, he could hardly have been thinking clearly at the time, so it was possible he had been mistaken. Still, his body seemed somehow lighter, freer than he remembered, and there was no strong discomfort. A certain stiffness about his limbs suggested that he had been lying still for some time, but that was nearly all. The sharp pounding of his head had vanished completely.

He must have made some small sound, or maybe it was just coincidence, but Yuuri stirred then, and groaned softly as he woke. "Umm… Conrart? Sorry, I guess I must have dozed off… you look much better." He shielded his mouth to cover a yawn.

"I _feel_ better", Conrart replied, and witnessed the smile blossom to life on Yuuri's face. Then Yuuri was suddenly clutching at his head, gasping a little in what was clearly pain, and Conrart's hand was on Yuuri's shoulder almost before he became conscious of putting it there.

"Yuuri! What's wrong?"

"Nothing… a headache, that's all. They're common enough – it will pass."

"You're pale. Here, drink."

Conrart had quickly reached for the water beside the bed, instinctively offering it to Yuuri, and they both stared at it wordlessly for a moment before Yuuri broke the silence and laughed – albeit a little shakily. "It seems out roles have been reversed."

He took the water with fingers that trembled slightly, making the liquid in the glass ripple. The shadows under his eyes seemed more pronounced than they had before, which struck Conrart as odd. He wondered vaguely if Yuuri was ill, then frowned as the stray thought triggered far more apprehension than it should have.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, mostly to stop himself from prying.

"A few hours. I went out for a few minutes to get some things, and you hadn't moved an inch by the time I got back. Oh! Which reminds me. Somebody was looking for you."

"Oh? Who?" Anybody but the nagging von Christ. Conrart tried to appear nonchalant, but Yuuri clearly saw through the façade, if the wry humour of his tone was anything to go by.

"A man", he said. "Your height I think, or thereabout. Fairer skin though, and a little stockier. Bright orange hair, very blue eyes. Something of a… a rakish look to him."

Conrart couldn't help but grin at the description Yuuri gave. Yes, that was Josak exactly. "It's my friend", he said with some relief. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No. We didn't speak. I overheard him asking someone else about you, near the place where I found you last night. He did not call you by name, but I didn't think it could have been anyone else he was talking about."

"I'm glad he's okay. We got separated in a fight and I couldn't find him afterwards."

"A fight?" Yuuri raised his eyebrows. "Well, I won't pretend I'm not surprised, going by your injuries. And I can't say I approve of fighting, but I… well, I suppose you gave as good as you got."

"I didn't think I had", Conrart admitted. "We were outnumbered. But I felt a lot worse last night than I do now. I suppose I can't have been injured that badly."

"Then I'm glad." Yuuri made to get up, but squeezed his eyes shut as he did so. There was a pinched look around his mouth, like he was holding in another gasp. He mastered himself quickly though, and stood straight with seemingly no further trouble, although Conrart noted that Yuuri had used a hand to steady himself as he did so.

Biting his tongue against the questions that rose in his throat, Conrart instead chose to say the next thought that occurred to him. "Where are my clothes?"

Inexplicably, Yuuri blushed. "I washed them. They looked like they needed it."

"Oh", Conrart blinked. Nudity did not particularly embarrass him; self-consciousness had no place in a soldier's life, and men in his position tended to lose any of it they might have once had fairly quickly – there was simply no other choice. Still, he found Yuuri's obvious fluster rather charming. It had been a long time since Conrart had seen such modesty. "Thank you."

"It was no problem. Um… do you want them back now? They should be dry, and if your friend is out looking for you, I…"

The heaviness was back at the thought of returning to the training school. Back to the tedious, relentless drill-work, despite the fact that Conrart was already far more skilled than all of his fellow trainees, and more than likely all his instructors as well. Back to the silent scorn of his peers, who would not hesitate to hiss their contempt and their hatred under their breath. Conrart was hardly the only man in Shin Makoku to have human blood as well as demon running through his veins, but he was certainly the only one at the academy, and his unique position among them as a royal member of the court made him a clear target for their derision. The bitterness simmered up in his chest at the memories, begging once more to be let out where it could howl and snap and snarl its fury-

"-Conrad?"

Yuuri was watching him closely. "If you'd like to stay a while longer, you could- that is, I-"

"My lord. I thank you for the kind offer, but I must be on my way", said Conrart politely, and watched Yuuri draw back sharply, as if slapped, by the unexpected cold formality of his words. His expression showed hurt, and an unexplainable sadness, before it was wiped hastily away, leaving Yuuri's features schooled to neutrality. "Very well. I will bring you your clothes and give you some privacy."

Conrart immediately wanted to take back his words. What was he doing, being intentionally callous like that – and to the man who had rescued him and given him shelter for the night, no less? He berated himself for it, and yet was unwilling to call Yuuri back. Such a man was not someone Conrart should be on such casual terms with. Yuuri was so patently someone of high status – the way he spoke, his bearing, his hair and eye colour – everything about him screamed nobility to Conrart, who had grown up as a part of the aristocracy and could spot any of them a mile away. He, a half-blood and a second son who possessed no skills whatsoever beyond those with a sword, was almost laughably beneath someone of that calibre. If Yuuri had known who Conrart was, he would probably not even have deigned to speak with him, let alone care for him as he had. Conrart was not and would never be worth such care – should not even warrant the attention. Such were Conrart's thoughts as he tugged on his trousers and fastened his shirt. His clothing looked and smelt as fresh as if they were brand new. Just one more thing to thank Yuuri for. _Lord_ Yuuri, that was.

The man in question was waiting for him by the door. He didn't appear angry or upset, and even offered Conrart a tremulous smile. "I suppose… we may not see each other again. This is not a small town."

"No, my lord", Conrart agreed respectfully. "I am at the officers academy most of the time for training, in any case."

Yuuri's eyes unexpectedly lit up at the words. "Then we will most certainly meet again! I'm to start work there in a few days."

"Work?" Conrart was bewildered. Those of noble birth – true noble birth, that was – did not _work_.

"Yes", Yuuri replied happily, oblivious to Conrart's confusion. "And I'm sure the academy can't be all that large, although I haven't had occasion to visit just yet. I look forward to it… oh! Isn't that your friend just over there, beyond that archway?"

He pointed, and Conrart spotted Josak immediately, although he was some way from them and walking in the opposite direction, not looking in their direction. His flame-bright hair stood out like a beacon, unmistakable.

"Yes. I must go, I'm sorry, I-"

"It's alright." Yuuri's hand closed around his own softly. His head tilted back slightly so that he was looking directly into Conrart's eyes. Conrart stared – felt himself being pulled inevitably in by that dark gaze, both unable and unwilling to turn away.

"Conrart Weller", Yuuri murmured. His voice suddenly sounded as though it was crossing over somewhere from a long distance, and his face was now startlingly blank. "So proud. Yet so angry. Conrart, will you let go of it someday?"

"I- what?" The shock of it made the back of his neck prickle.

Abruptly, Yuuri shook his head as if clearing it, and the awful blankness vanished as swiftly as it had arrived as Yuuri's expression grew rueful. "Now _I'm_ the one who's sorry. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me, and I speak without really knowing what I say." He let go of Conrart's hand, and the soldier blinked. He hadn't even known Yuuri had still been holding it. "I'll see you soon, Conrart." And then Conrart was gaping at a closed door, listening as Yuuri's footsteps faded away from behind it.

What did Yuuri mean, they would see each other at the academy? Yuuri was no soldier, that much was clear. No instructor, either, surely, and certainly not a cook or any kind of servant – not a man of his background. Some kind of tactician, perhaps? A diplomat? But that did not seem quite right either. Slowly, Conrart began to walk away, barely noticing anything beyond a step in front of him as the questions swirled around in his mind.

It was not until some minutes later, before he caught sight again of Josak and called out to his friend, that Conrart finally realised he had not thought to ask again for Yuuri's last name.

And it was not until that night, tossing and turning in his hard bed at the training school, that Conrart wondered just how Yuuri had known his.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	3. Chapter III: Fated

"So? Tell me. You haven't said anything about this mystery man of yours."

Conrart shrugged. He had indeed said little to Josak after taking his leave from Yuuri a few days earlier – only that he had been pulled off the street at some point after collapsing, and that the man was a noble whom Conrart had never seen before. Josak hadn't asked any more questions that day; plenty familiar with the stiff set of Conrart's shoulders, he had respected Conrart's desire for silence. They had separated when the two men had drawn close to the officers academy, the huge walls casting shadows over the two of them as they parted ways.

In truth, Conrart had wanted simply to be alone. After assuring himself that Josak had gotten away with nothing more serious than a few nasty bruises and one or two dislocated fingers, the only thing he had wished for was solitude. Now, the whole encounter with Yuuri held a dreamlike quality to it, and Conrart half-wondered whether he had imagined the entire thing. When recounting the events surrounding his meeting with Yuuri even to himself, they sounded like something out of a story.

"Not much to tell. He was… kind, that's all."

Josak snorted. "'Kind' doesn't begin to cover it. How often does a random stranger – someone of noble blood, I might add – drag in an unconscious soldier from the street? He sounds more crazy than anything else. Or like he had an ulterior motive."

"I don't think he knew I was a soldier", Conrart said. He paused, then went on, "I doubt he knew anything about me. He certainly isn't from around these parts, so he mustn't have realised…" He didn't need to finish the sentence for Josak to understand. _Half-blood_. Josak was right – the stigma against men such as they meant that it wasn't just unlikely, but virtually unbelievable, that someone of nobility would stoop to saving someone of half-human kind.

Josak gave a noncommittal grunt. "You said his name was Yuuri. I don't know it. Last name?"

Conrart was silent. Josak paused, studied him for a moment, then laughed disbelievingly. "You're kidding. You don't know it?"

"… He didn't give it to me", Conrart admitted.

"And you didn't ask him?" Josak was incredulous. "What, did getting your head smashed deprive you of your common sense?"

"Leave it", Conrart warned a little tetchily. He was feeling oddly defensive about the whole thing, and had no desire to share any more than was necessary even with Josak. His time with Yuuri felt… somehow private. Sacred, even. Something he didn't want to share with the rest of the world – not even with Josak, who for years had been his closest companion, and someone in whom Conrart could confide while knowing that Josak could understand the brunt of his frustration. His anger and his shame. But the details of his encounter with Yuuri seemed strangely personal, even though there had been nothing at all over which Conrart should have felt embarrassed or secretive about.

"At least tell me the outside details", Josak prodded. "What business does he have here, if he doesn't belong with any of the idiots up at the castle? What did he look like?"

Conrart frowned, this time in thought. "I don't know what he's doing here. He said something about work at the training school, but I have no idea what he meant by that. I didn't recognise the name either, but it could be that he's someone's distant relative. As for his appearance…" He hesitated.

"What? Was he really that unusual?"

"He… yes. Dark hair. Dark eyes."

Josak looked unimpressed. "That doesn't tell me mu- wait. You mean black? The man was a double-_black?_"

Conrart nodded mutely.

Josak swore, half-impressed and half-apprehensive. "_That_ changes things. And you have no idea who he was?" he demanded.

"None. I'd never seen him before in my life – I know I would have remembered if I had." The name still sounded vaguely familiar to Conrart, like he ought to know it from somewhere. Nonetheless, he was adamant that he had never met Yuuri previously. You just didn't forget someone like that.

Josak gave a low whistle. "No wonder you didn't want to say anything. I don't even know if I've even _seen_ a living double-black before, let alone had one take me home and patch me up." He paused, a sly look coming over his face. "Was he handsome?"

Conrart had no answer to that. 'Handsome', the soldier thought, didn't even begin to describe it. And it was the wrong word entirely for what Yuuri had been in any case, although for the life of him, Conrart couldn't think of what word he should be using in its stead. It went beyond merely Yuuri's hair and eye colour, although that in itself was undeniably striking. It had nothing to do, either, with his build or stature, which Conrart had thought pleasant but otherwise unremarkable from what little he had been able to tell. Yuuri had not been particularly tall, and had what had seemed like a relatively slender but inconspicuous frame. No, there had been something else entirely about Yuuri – something that had very little to do with just his physical looks. A certain air. A vibe, or a presence, that had drawn Conrart in despite himself. Something unearthly, almost – as though Yuuri trod a fine line between this world and another. Not that Conrart even believed in the existence of other worlds, and yet… and yet…

"Fine, keep it to yourself then", Josak sighed. "I see I'll be getting no more out of you – today, at least. I'll give this to your mysterious double-black though, he did a decent enough job of patching you up. Hardly a scratch on you."

That was yet another point that had been niggling away at Conrart. It was true; after getting back to the academy and inspecting the damage for himself, Conrart had been shocked to find how little evidence remained of his misadventures. He had been hit squarely in the stomach, that much he was sure of. Enough to make him double over in pain. And the injury to his head had been severe enough to cause substantial bleeding and eventually knock him out. But looking himself over critically, all Conrart had found was several already fading bruises – on the large side, but not serious or even especially painful – and a thin, still slightly bloody gash hidden by the fall of his hair. Logic told him that his whole body should have ached, and indeed, Conrart distinctly remembered that it had done upon that first waking. Instead, it was as almost as though the fight had never happened.

Of course, it was possible to chalk up his wounds – or rather, lack of them – to feeling far more severe than they really had been due to the numbing effects of the alcohol, or his practically guaranteed concussion, or both. But somehow this didn't seem quite right to Conrart, although he was unable to explain precisely why it did not. He pondered, not for the first time, if he hadn't simply dreamt most of it up while he was still out cold – the hallucinatory effects of blood loss combined with too much wine. After all, Yuuri had said (or Conrart had _thought_ Yuuri had said) that they would see each other again at the training school. Yet Conrart had caught not a single glimpse of Yuuri since then, or even heard a mention of his name from anyone else, and it had been nearly a week since then.

Confronted with a tight-lipped, irritable version of his friend, Josak eventually gave up on badgering Conrart and left the man to himself. "Be sure to tell me if your double-black, too-handsome-for-words paramour makes a comeback", were his slightly sarcastic parting words.

* * *

Back at the academy, Conrart chafed under his continued punishment for leaving the academy without permission, breaking curfew, and engaging in "drunken and violent behavior unbecoming of a trainee officer" by running laps of the grounds under the unrelenting sun. Outwardly, he made no complaint. Whether it was running laps or cleaning the school's training equipment, Conrart didn't care so long as he was left alone. Nonetheless, it seemed stupidly pointless – an exercise that served only to make him more withdrawn, and one that had a reverse effect in instilling any sense of regret or remorse for his actions. The more they pushed, the more Conrart pulled away. His instructors, Conrart inwardly seethed, were fools if they did not see this, with the head instructor, Gunter von Christ, being the most foolish of them all.

Conrart was called back indoors nearly an hour later, drenched in sweat and made to line up with the other trainees, who either pointedly ignored him or muttered choice remarks under their breath that Conrart could not be bothered properly listening to. Hundreds of them, breathing down his neck, making his innards curl. He envied Josak sometimes for at least being able to be among those of his own kind. Royalty or not, Conrart had more in common with the enlisted men than he ever would among the higher ranks of soldiers. He wondered whether, one day, he might explode with the effort of keeping all of his fury pent up inside – the string of a bow drawn taut enough that it would someday finally, inexorably, snap.

"Atten_tion_!" bellowed one of the instructors. Conrart looked up, consciously trying once again to relax his muscles, breathe deeply. Von Christ himself was climbing onto the make-shift wooden stage, his quiet confidence and shock of long white hair commanding everyone's sight.

"I have a brief announcement to make", the instructor began after clearing his throat. "Today we have a new face joining our ranks. He is here as a healer and physician, to learn under and help with Gisela's work in the infirmary. I expect everyone to make him feel welcome, and to obey any of his instructions. If you please?" he turned, beckoning to someone from the left.

The silence was broken as a young man ascended the stage, causing the neatly assembled lines of men below to break into hushed murmurs at the sight. "Isn't he?... He is!... Never seen… first time I've ever… doing _here?_"

The ripple of words faded in and out of Conrart's hearing, who could only stare in mute shock. Seemingly unruffled by the low commotion, the double-black stood quietly beside Gunter, who spoke above the sudden outbreak disapprovingly. "May I introduce to you Lord Yuuri vo-" He stopped speaking abruptly as Yuuri turned and whispered something to him, expression and body language respectful but firm. "…Yuuri", Gunter finished awkwardly, his brows drawing together. "Needless to say, you will treat him with the utmost respect."

Gunter took a small step to the side, gesturing for Yuuri to say a few words in response. Watching him intently, it seemed to Conrart that Yuuri's eyes scanned the crowd, as though searching for someone, before he inclined his head at them courteously. "I thank you for your kind welcome", he said. His voice was not overly loud, but the sound carried clearly to where Conrart stood, stock still, his heart hammering unexpectedly and almost painfully against his ribcage. "And I look forward to getting to know you all in time. Please don't hesitate to talk to me about anything you may need." His simple speech ended, Yuuri fell silent.

And then his eyes found Conrart's, his face lighting up as though Conrart had just given him the world – and all Conrart could do was stare as he felt his own world crumble to pieces around him.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	4. Chapter IV: Surrender

**I was asked by an anonymous reviewer about what Yuuri looked like in this story – the regular anime version of himself, or the Maou anime version. Actually, I've purposefully left off describing his appearance here in detail because, given that this is an AU piece, I'd rather have the readers imagine whatever they feel is most right to them. **

* * *

Great. Just perfect. Conrart paced the hallways restlessly that evening, unable to sit still. Not only was Yuuri a noble, he had to be a magic-wielder as well. A _healer_ of all things – a branch of magic uncommon enough in these times to command a significant degree of respect. A powerful one too, if Yuuri, as Conrart suspected, had healed the worst of his injures in the space of one night.

"I didn't realise there were this many trainees." Yuuri's voice filtered out of the infirmary, and Conrart stopped in his tracks as suddenly as a puppet with its strings jerked. The room had been empty on his last passing – coincidentally, the fourth time he had walked past it within the last two hours.

"Over two hundred of them currently enrolled in the school", came Gisela's reply. "More than any other year. I'm glad that you answered my letter and came when you did – I could use the extra pair of hands."

"But there can't be that many injuries?" Yuuri inquired.

"Fewer than you might think, given that they must all work daily with the sword, as well as in other forms of combat. Their time here is spent in furthering their training, not beginning it. But accidents happen. And so many bodies living in comparatively close quarters, over a long period of time… people still become ill, and sickness can spread all too easily."

"I'd like to study how to better deal with them", spoke Yuuri earnestly. "They're so much more difficult for me than outward injuries. And I know I have a lot left to learn in other areas too."

"You have a deft touch", Gisela replied calmly. "And while you lack training, you're one of the strongest healers I've ever come across. One day soon, you'll easily surpass me."

"Oh! I don't think… I mean, I'm not quite…" Their conversation faded into the background as cupboards were opened and shut, glass bottles clinking softly and wooden surfaces squeaking as they were scrubbed down for a final time that night. "… under control? … headaches…"

Conrart took an involuntarily step closer to the room and then halted again, temped to turn away now before he heard more. It was none of his business, and regardless, eavesdropping was a deplorable habit to adopt. And yet, he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't wish to know more about Yuuri. No matter how much Conrart tried to fight the growing sense of being pulled in ever closer, against his control if not exactly his will, Yuuri intrigued him. Conrart couldn't begin to describe it even to himself; had no means of rationalising the way he felt so drawn to Yuuri. It went beyond mere fascination. Infatuation, sexual attraction, even love – Conrart had experienced all of these before to some extent, but nothing came close to defining what he could now sense lurking deep within himself. It was ridiculous, considering that the amount of time he had personally spent in Yuuri's presence came only to a few short hours. Less, if you didn't count the fact that Conrart had been unconscious for the majority of it.

Ridiculous, and wonderful, and terrifying.

"… until now. But… worse again recently. I'm almost sure… linked to… especially when I sleep. Sometimes in the middle of the day though. They've caught me completely unaware before, although mercifully not often."

Conrart's muscles were practically shaking from the effort of standing so unnaturally still. The impulse to run was strong – to run and keep running until he had left this place, and Yuuri, and all of it far behind him. He didn't want to make himself vulnerable like this, to lay himself so bare. But a profounder, more primal part of him refused to let him budge from that one spot, where he skulked like a common thief, gleaning all he could of Yuuri's secrets. Conrart barely knew him, and he already wanted to learn all there was to know of Yuuri, inside and out.

He swallowed, throat dry, as Gisela spoke again. "Perhaps that too is something we may be able to train", she suggested gently.

"No. I don't think so." All trace of levity was abruptly gone from Yuuri's tone. "I was taught not to squander what I have been given", he went on. "But I never asked for this. Never wanted it. Not even for a second."

"Yuuri…"

Gisela sounded like she wanted to say more, but Yuuri broke in, "You know, I think I might go home for the evening. Unless you need me for anything else?"

Conrart slowly began backing away, further into the shadows cast by the last of the sun's shadows reflecting from the nearby window.

He heard Gisela sigh. "No, I don't think so. Go get some rest. You look like you need it. … And Yuuri?"

Conrart paused, on the verge of retreating fully back the way he had come, as Yuuri's booted footsteps halted by the entranceway.

"Yes?"

"We all have to stop running away sometime. Right now, the when is up to you. But it may best be done sooner rather than later. Before you no longer have the freedom to choose."

Quietly, Conrart slipped off before he could overhear anymore, or be caught listening in to a conversation clearly not meant for anyone else's ears.

He did not linger to watch Yuuri leave the room, or the training academy for the day – a dark figure in the darkening streets.

* * *

Conrart knocked as unconcernedly as he knew how, pretending to himself that he wasn't having to force his breathing to steadiness. It didn't matter what facial expression Yuuri greeted him with, or what words he used to speak to him, of course assuming the man was actually there-

"Conrad!" Yuuri's face popped out from behind the door of an open cupboard. He didn't look pleased to see Conrart – he looked absolutely delighted. His smile was radiant, putting Conrart suddenly in mind of the sun. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"You… you are?"

"Of course! When I didn't see you again after being introduced by Lord von Christ yesterday, I thought- well, I'm just glad to see you."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course", said Yuuri again, although he appeared somewhat taken aback at the abrupt shift in conversation. Still, he remained cheerfully polite. "Why don't you come in properly and sit down?"

In contrast, Conrart knew he was being rude. What right did he of all people have to question a man such as Yuuri? Even by usual standards, he was behaving discourteously, barging in like this and pressuring Yuuri to say more than he was probably comfortable with. Still, after another near-sleepless night, laying at the mercy of his own fevered imaginings, Conrart had to find out more.

"I wanted to thank you again for the other day", he said, although he couldn't bring himself to sit. He stood in front of Yuuri instead, hands balled into fists to keep them from twitching. Well, at least his voice sounded more or less normal.

"It was my pleasure. I wanted to help."

"You healed me", Conrart said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I hope you don't mind. But you were losing consciousness when I found you and bleeding so profusely and I knew I couldn't just-"

"-Mind? Why would I mind?"

Yuuri shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know, it's just… sometimes I get… I know people might not like it when I-"

"Why me?" Conrart interrupted again.

Yuuri looked at him, nonplussed. "I already told you. You were lying right there in the street and-"

"-No. Not that. Why _me?_"

"I don't know what you mean", said Yuuri helplessly.

"You don't know who I am." Again, there was no question in Conrart's voice.

"Nothing other than your name and what it is that you do, no", Yuuri agreed a little hesitantly.

"So even though you somehow know my family name, you're saying you have no idea who I am. _What_ I am." Conrart could not keep the accusatory note from his tone.

"I don't know your family name", Yuuri said, eyebrows drawing together slightly.

"You called me by it right before I left that day. After you healed me. You called me Conrart Weller."

"I don't remember that."

"You don't remember?" Conrart could hear himself growing louder, more forceful.

"No."

"You don't know anything about me?"

"I've told you I don't. Why is it that you have trouble believing me?"

"Because it makes no sense! Why would you – why would anyone, but especially you – care about someone like me?"

"I don't understand. Why shouldn't I care about you? What is it that's upsetting you?"

Conrart exhaled tightly, trying and failing to calm himself down. He might as well just say it plainly, he thought. As repugnant as it would no doubt be to Yuuri, the noble obviously needed things spelt out for him. "Because, _Lord_ Yuuri, a man of your status has no business being concerned for a person of my background. Someone with human blood in his veins."

There was a brief silence as Yuuri studied him carefully, while Conrart fought to contain his feelings. He was unused to being so rattled. What had become of the coolly controlled, unflappable Conrart he had thought he knew?

"… You're saying you're human?" asked Yuuri finally, his tenor devoid of any particular inflection.

"Half", said Conrart, almost defiantly. "My father is- was- a human. My mother is the current ruler of Shin Makoku."

Another silence, broken only by the sounds of birds chirping outside. "Oh", Yuuri said eventually.

"_Oh?_"

Yuuri gave a little laugh, sounding unsure. "I don't know what else it is you want me to say", he admitted. "Should I be surprised? Upset? Angry?"

"You… I can't believe…" For the first time in as long as he could remember, Conrart was truly at a loss for words.

"In all honesty, I suppose I didn't give your heritage any particular thought one way or the other", Yuuri broke in, seeing Conrart's struggle. "Is it so important to you?" He appeared genuinely curious.

Conrart's fragile composure snapped. "Of course it matters!" he all but shouted, and saw Yuuri's eyes widen. The healer took a step back. Immediately, Conrart lowered his voice again, but he was by no means finished. The soldier was suddenly seething, and did not seem able to rein his anger back in now that it had been set loose again. "Of course it matters", he repeated in a low hiss. "Do you know how many people would gladly have left me lying there on the street to die? How many would have been _glad_ to see the last of me? All because of my father's blood? _Do you know how much that blood has cost me?_"

Yuuri had paled in the face of Conrart's rage. Far from looking disgusted or afraid though, his features had taken on a grave sorrow. "I _don't_ know", he said quietly, casting his eyes down. "I can't pretend to understand this, although your blood means nothing to me beyond that which gives you life. I could not have it any other way." He glanced back up at Conrart. "But for what it's worth, I'm sorry. More sorry than you know." He looked like he might cry, although he did not tear his sight away from Conrart again, nor make any attempt to hide his unexpected grief.

Conrart didn't know what to say to that. His customary response to someone attempting to sympathise with his plight when they had no real idea of the prejudice he was up against – or worse, displaying blind pity – would have been to quickly walk away lest he lash out in fury in response. He had no time for empty platitudes, or for people who pretended to understand him when they plainly did not and could not do so. More often than not, those people didn't even want to try – not really. They were hypocrites, and Conrart hated them with a passion that burnt everything else in its path.

Or at least, had done so until now. It didn't just surprise him, but shook him down to his very foundations – the strength with which the desire to comfort Yuuri gripped him. Conrart trembled as he took a step forward, narrowing their distance to little more than a sigh. His hand stopped in mid-air though, suspended in the act of alighting on Yuuri's cheek.

More than anything, he wanted to touch Yuuri. No, more even than that – he wanted to hold him. To draw him in close to his chest and provide Yuuri some measure of solace, and never let him go again.

But he couldn't quite bring himself to invade that tiny space, the only thing that now separated hope from pain. Not to Yuuri, who deserved someone better. Someone as innocent and pure as Yuuri himself was, and not weighted down with anger like Conrart. Someone like him could never make Yuuri happy – he would have felt as though he were dirtying Yuuri simply by trying.

They stared at each other, unblinking in the afternoon rays of sunlight. It had become perfectly still – even the birds outside had grown quiet. The very air itself seemed to wait, motionless and anticipating.

Then Yuuri was moving one of his own hands towards Conrart, breaking the barrier between them until his fingertips eventually came to rest, feather-light, over Conrart's heart. "I would heal this pain, no matter what it cost me, if I could", he breathed, gazing at Conrart almost dizzily.

Later, Conrart could not have said with any real conviction which of them leaned forward first, closing the last of the gap still dividing them in the space of one more heartbeat.

And then, like a dam bursting its banks, they were kissing. Gently at first, because Conrart could not bear to be anything but, and Yuuri seemed unsure – not of Conrart as much as of himself. But in moments, despite all of Conrart's reservations, the kiss deepened as Yuuri apparently abandoned all thought, kissing Conrart back as though he were afraid the soldier would disappear if he didn't. Instinctively, Conrart reached to caress Yuuri's neck as the younger man twined his fingers in Conrart's hair, tugging lightly at the chestnut-hued strands. He moaned into Conrart's mouth, making Conrart's hands fumble with the top buttons of Yuuri's shirt. Yuuri did not try to stop him – only slid closer to the warmth radiating from Conrart's body, his eyes closed.

God, what was he doing, behaving like this with a man Conrart barely knew? But neither his mind nor his body appeared to bother anything for logic, and Conrart was nearly beyond caring. His nails grazed Yuuri's collarbone, slipping the shirt further down and off of Yuuri's shoulders-

And froze, as they came into contact with something soft and thin. It was a leather cord, Conrart saw, looking down. Plain brown and smooth, and unremarkable in and of itself. The stone pendant hanging from it was anything but, however. It was in the shape of a tear drop, and unfathomably blue in colour – bluer than anything else Conrart had ever seen. That in itself was extraordinary, but it was what lay within the pendant that made Conrart inhale sharply.

That family crest. He would know it anywhere, although this was his first time seeing it in real life.

"Oh god", he whispered, and could not prevent the horror from seeping into his voice. "You're Yuuri von Wincott."

He saw Yuuri flinch back at his words, or perhaps at way in which he spoke them, eyes now wide with… what was it Conrart saw in those black depths? Fear? Apprehension?

"Ahem."

They both turned towards the sound in the same moment. To where Gisela currently stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

"I…" Yuuri flushed, a bright red spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He clutched at the corners of his shirt, holding them together to hide the exposed skin that Conrart had only seconds ago been marking with his touch. He looked as embarrassed as if he had just been caught completely naked, glancing in distress between Gisela and Conrart as though afraid of being reprimanded for his actions. As if _he_ were the one who ought to feel ashamed.

"We weren't- that is, I only wanted- I didn't mean to-"

Conrart stepped forward, about to reassure him, to defend him if necessary, but the spell rooting Yuuri to the floor broke at the movement. Flashing a last panicked glimpse back at him, Yuuri lowered his eyes and all but but fled the room.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	5. Chapter V: Secret

Though he did not know her well, Conrart was fond of Gisela.

One of the few people in the training school that Conrart both liked and admired, Gisela was a cool and quietly efficient, no-nonsense woman who could command the terse attention of hundreds of men at once with nothing more than a pointed glance. Under her skilled administrations, the sick and the injured usually left the infirmary better than new.

Conrart also suspected that, despite her petite frame and neat, almost delicate features, Gisela was quite capable of holding her own in a fight. Not that anybody had seen any evidence of this – the healer's knack of bossing soldiers around three times her size had earned her the nickname of 'Sergeant'. It would be a mistake to judge Gisela based on her small stature and wide green eyes; her touch was gentle, but he had seen grown men tremble in fear at nothing more than a stern word from her.

Frankly, the woman scared even him a little.

Currently, the woman herself was folding her arms and gazing unblinkingly at him from the doorway through which, just moments ago, Yuuri had hurriedly left, red-faced and flustered. Conrart's survival instincts were instructing him to run at the sight, but curiosity made him stay his ground. Judging by the conversation he had overheard the previous day, Gisela seemed to be on familiar terms with Yuuri, and the opportunity to find out more was staring him straight in the eye.

"Gisela", he greeted calmly.

"Lord Weller." She didn't sound angry as Conrart had half expected her to. On the contrary, Gisela appeared completely composed as she let her arms fall back down to her sides and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "I see you and Yuuri are already acquainted."

"I apologise if we caused a disturbance", he said, remembering the way he had briefly yelled.

Gisela shrugged, apparently unconcerned. "We all lose our cool every now and then. Such things are unavoidable, especially in places like this. You could probably stand to lose yours more often, in fact."

Conrart didn't exactly know how to reply to that. He settled for a vague noise of agreement, and Gisela sighed, a soft huff of exasperation. "You keep too much inside", she clarified. "It's not healthy for the body, or for the mind come to that. You would do better to find an appropriate way to channel it back outwards… not that shouting is a particularly good approach, but it's a start I suppose." She folded her arms again, clearly waiting for some kind of verbal response this time.

Conrart cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably. He was not embarrassed to have been caught being intimate with another man, but he was embarrassed to have been caught at it with _Yuuri_. Apart from it being Conrart's own fault to begin with, the noble did not deserve to have his reputation compromised, and Conrart was honour-bound to defend it. "Whatever you think you saw-"

"-Please." Gisela held up a hand, stopping him. "You kissed him. Or he kissed you. Either way, I saw enough to know there's something between the two of you- _not_ that I believe there's anything wrong in that", she said sharply as Conrart made to interrupt.

"You… you don't?"

Gisela gave un-ladylike snort. "Do I look like the kind of person who cares anything for the silly games of courtly rules? There's a good reason I choose to spend most of my time here rather than at Blood Pledge Castle. And there's no need to look so astounded, Lord Weller – to be perfectly honest, I couldn't be less interested in your bloodline if I tried."

It was easy to forget sometimes that she was a member of the nobility herself. Gunter von Christ's adopted daughter or no, Gisela was unusually forthright and rarely displayed any of the personality traits Conrart associated with the gentry. Still, Conrart couldn't help but be taken aback by Gisela's casual attitude towards his actions. "Yuu… that is, Lord von Wincott fascinates me", he admitted, watching Gisela's face carefully.

Gisela didn't seem startled. "Found that out, did you? Well, I'm not really surprised. Yuuri knew that it would have to come to light sooner or later, and I told him so."

"I don't understand. Why go to the trouble of hiding it?"

Gisela gave him a frank look. "Why do you think? A von Wincott on top of his hair and eye colour? I would expect you of all people to understand the need for a little privacy. Yuuri doesn't like to be gawked at, or thought of as some exotic animal – and I can't say I blame him."

"But why the embarrassment? It's almost like he's ashamed of being who he is."

"Ah. Something like a certain other person we both know?" Gisela looked at Conrart until he glanced away, guilt tugging at him, before Gisela sighed again and took pity on him. "Lord Weller, I like you. The chip on your shoulder is closer in size to a boulder, but I like you. You're a strong man, and a good one – even if you are also a fool. Yuuri is young, and inexperienced, and he wants above all to make a difference. How do you think it feels, to focus solely on honing one's abilities in order to help people, only to be constantly judged based on physical appearance or family background? If that sounds at all similar to you, it should – only unlike _you_, Yuuri has even less choice about how he must comport himself among society."

A rush of understanding filled Conrart at Gisela's matter-of-fact speech, quickly followed by a hot flood of shame. All Yuuri had wanted was to be treated by Conrart as an equal, and Conrart… he had not only refused to do so, but thrown the fact that Yuuri was a noble back in his face. No wonder he hadn't been eager to reveal too much of himself. The von Wincott's weren't just aristocrats – they were an old family, said to have the richest history among all the Ten Aristocratic Houses. Yuuri was essentially a victim of his own bloodlines, just as much or possibly more in some ways as Conrart himself was. To be as yet unfamiliar with strong feelings of desire on top of this meant that it was practically an inevitability for Yuuri to feel unsure, even distressed, at his own reactions. For it was clear now that Yuuri felt it too – a strange connection to Conrart that could no longer be denied.

Just how could Conrart have been so _stupid_?

"If you understand, then I suggest you try to make it up to him", Gisela suggested, seemingly able to read his mind. "He will forgive you… perhaps more easily than he should."

Conrart couldn't tell whether Gisela was joking or not. But there was more than this now on his mind. "Gisela", he said urgently. "Yuuri's afraid of something, I know it. Something that has nothing to do with his family name. What is it that he's running from?"

Gisela smiled, but the expression was somehow a sad one. "That, Lord Weller, is not my secret to tell", she said, and Conrart knew he would get no more out of her than that. He turned to leave.

"Conrart." Gisela stopped him before he could exit the room, abandoning all formality.

Conrart quickly faced her once more. "Yes?"

"Yuuri is my friend", she said quietly. "We've known each other for a long time. I don't know what it is between you, but I don't plan on getting in the way of it. It's not my business, and besides, I think it will do you good. Both of you. But I will say this." The look in her eyes changed from gentle to terrifying in an instant. "If you ever intentionally hurt him again in any way whatsoever, even once, the Original King himself come back to life couldn't save you from me." She gazed at Conrart steadily. "Do I make myself quite clear?"

Conrart's muscles twitched as the survival instincts kicked back in with a vengeance. "Yes, Sergeant."

* * *

That night, Conrart dreamed, unsurprisingly, of Yuuri.

He became aware it was a dream the moment it began, because the harsh intensity with which he saw and felt things could not have belonged to that of reality. It was as if all of his senses had been impossibly heightened, until the experience was almost painful.

Painful, and utterly, unimaginably beautiful.

"Conrad…!" Yuuri cried, and arched beneath him, his lean form entirely bare and writhing beneath Conrart's. Their thighs brushed, and Yuuri moaned helplessly into Conrart's mouth as the soldier leant over to kiss him, long and hard and thorough like he hadn't had the chance to do earlier that day. Eagerly making up for his mistake.

"Yuuri… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Yuuri looked up at Conrart from where he was lying on the ground, dazed. "I forgive you", he said breathlessly. "I forgive you, so please whatever you do, please don't stop… ahh!" He squirmed powerlessly again when Conrart traced his fingers across his chest, following the line of his body as it sloped smoothly down to his stomach, past his naval, and then dipped lower.

"You are beautiful", Conrart told him honestly, and Yuuri shook his head, blushing a little, about to protest before Conrart claimed his mouth for a second time, bearing down on already kiss-swollen lips. His palm carefully stroked between Yuuri's legs, and the younger man gasped and threw his head back, revealing a long pale neck that made Conrart at once want to mark it. It shook him, just how much he wanted it.

But Yuuri was sitting up before Conrart could move to do so, his eyes boring into Conrart's as he gripped him by the shoulders. He gently pushed at them until their positions were reversed, with Conrart now the one lying on his back, the blue pendent swinging down from Yuuri's neck in slow circles at the motion. It hung in the air, shimmering, almost but not quite close enough to caress Conrart's skin. Then, just like he had in the infirmary, Yuuri placed his hand over Conrart's heart – only this time, there was no fabric to separate the contact, fragile as a butterfly's wing. Conrart could feel his heartbeat fluttering in response.

"Ssh. Can't you feel it?" Yuuri whispered.

Conrart was about to answer him – _of course I can_ – when Yuuri cried unexpectedly out again, this time in sudden agony. He clutched at his head, covering his eyes, and Conrart shouted his name, alarmed.

"Yuuri! What's wrong? _Yuuri!_"

"It hurts! Oh god, Conrad, make it stop, please make it stop, it hurts so much, I don't want to see-!" The words were abruptly cut off as Yuuri went completely limp in Conrart's arms, and Conrart could only stare at him – into Yuuri's eyes – as they glazed over, the light in them gradually dimming until they were blank and lifeless as stone.

Conrart shook him frantically. "Yuuri! Yuuri, listen to me! You have to come back!"

"Conrart." It was Yuuri, and yet eerily also not. Devoid of any inflection, it was as though a ghost spoke using Yuuri's voice. "Conrart Weller. Do you know what you have wrought?"

"What are you talking about? Where's Yuuri? Give him back to me!"

"I am Yuuri. And he is me. We are one and the same."

"You're lying!"

"And you will be responsible for our death", Yuuri continued like Conrart had not spoken at all. "Though you will not do it willingly, you _will_ kill us."

At those words, Conrart recoiled from Yuuri as if struck, and Yuuri's eyes cleared as soon as Conrart was no longer touching him. He gaped at Conrart, horrified.

"Conrad… don't leave me…!" His tone was weak.

"I would never, I swear it!" Conrart immediately tried to reach out to grasp him – to draw him in close and protect him from whatever was causing him harm, reassure them both that they were alright, but it was like an invisible barrier had been thrown up between them in the few seconds they had been apart. Conrart pounded at it with his fists, then hurled his whole body against it when it refused to give – again and again, as Yuuri called out to him from the other side, his voice continuing to become fainter as an unseen force sapped at his strength.

"Conrad! Conrad, come back! Come back… don't go… please… don't leave me here…"

"YUURI!"

But it was he who was fading away, leaving Yuuri behind, the black-haired man growing smaller and smaller in his vision as Conrart was pulled further from him. He tried to turn back, to fight his way to Yuuri so that he could grab hold of him and keep him there, but something silent and powerful had Conrart in its clutches and was not letting go, no matter how much he struggled to free himself. Finally, Yuuri was no longer even a dark speck in the distance, although his voice still sounded in Conrart's ears, barely above a whimper now but still desperate and afraid.

"Don't… leave me behind… _Conrad!_"

And then Conrart shot up with a jerk, back in his hard bed with the blankets strewn messily around him as he shuddered, muscles still convulsing as they tried to chase after a phantom Yuuri. He ran violently shaking fingers through his hear, feeling the cold beads of sweat there and recognising with a terrible conviction that the dream had been more than what it seemed.

After a while, when he felt he could trust himself to walk, Conrart got up and padded to the window, looking out at the inky stillness. It was vast as an ocean, and just as desolate. He rubbed absently at his left arm. It ached, though he did not see why it should.

Still several hours until the dawn. Conrart knew he would not sleep again that night.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	6. Chapter VI: Answer

**Much of what is said and occurs in the fight scene of this chapter is based on season 3, episode 10 of the anime.**

* * *

At the first streaks of grey to permeate the gloom, Conrart rose, dressed quietly, and strode to one of the indoor training halls within the school. The world was almost completely still yet, and he knew it would be at least an hour before any activity began for the day. Having whiled away the rest of the night in tense silence, laying in the dark with only his thoughts for company, he now felt closed in and suffocated, and was struck with the urgent impulse to _move_.

Conrart was no stranger to this feeling. Playing truant from the academy was not simply a way of showing his disdain at being forced to live and train in close quarters with men he could defeat laughably easily in mere seconds of combat – men who, despite this fact, looked down upon him and refused to even entertain the thought of viewing him as their equal. Neither was his behaviour a means of irritating Gunter von Christ, whom Conrart both disliked and mistrusted, or any of his other instructors. Rather, his escape from the school was just that – an escape. When his own anger and bitterness became so strong that he knew he would no longer be able to fight without holding back, and when the very walls seemed to make his skin crawl and his body thrum with the self-control that it took to reign it all in, there seemed no choice but to permit himself a temporary reprieve – from his physical surroundings at least, if not from himself. That, he knew he would never escape.

But before the morning had truly dawned, Conrart could at least be allowed some privacy in which to briefly release his frustration. With no contemptuous onlookers and nobody to force him to hold his strength in check, lest he lash out too violently, Conrart was for the moment free to let out some of his stifled emotion.

His boots echoed in the empty hall, floorboards squeaking slightly underfoot as he crossed the room to remove one of the swords from its resting place. It lay in his palm, a familiar weight that he found reassuring, almost like an old friend. It _belonged_. Conrart might not wield any magical powers, or be able to lay claim to a family line unblemished by human blood, but his skill with the sword was nearly unparalleled. Here, at last, was something Conrart could take pride in.

He could already feel his stance changing as he held the sword ready; his back straightening slightly and his shoulders losing some of their tension. His grip was strong and sure as he swung the sword in an arc that cut through the air smoothly, without any uncertainty or awkwardness. His muscles easily bore the weight of the blade, and there was nothing and nobody to stop him from moving faster, swinging harder, turning more furiously to parry with an imaginary assailant. No scorn. No antipathy. Only this – his body becoming attuned to the sword, which cared for nothing at all beyond his own physical abilities. Finally, something honest, that he could grip in his hand and know it to be real.

So singular was Conrart's awareness, body beginning to ache pleasurably as the sword whistled through the air, body obeying his every command, that he did not see the other person enter until the sound of a separate pair of footsteps broke through his focus. He jerked to a stop, all concentration shattering like glass at the intrusion into his solitude.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

Conrart could only stare.

Yuuri swallowed, looking down, then clearly forcing himself to meet Conrart's eyes. "Lord Weller", he began again softly, formally. "I did not mean to disturb you. I only came here to apologise for my actions yesterday. I had no intention of… I only wanted…" He bit his lip, his distress plain for all to see. Conrart thought that the younger man, too, had slept poorly, if at all. He looked wan, the heavy marks of exhaustion starkly pronounced. There was an air of fragility around Yuuri, as if he was holding himself together through sheer effort of will. "I will treat you as I would any other man, if that is what you wish."

Until hearing those words, Conrart had not realised just how much it hurt to be held at arm's length. Seeing Yuuri standing before him, speaking to him with such reserve – even worse, witnessing first-hand exactly how much Conrart must have wounded the double-black with his own carelessness to make him speak in that manner… he did not need Gisela to warn him about causing Yuuri further pain.

Conrart dropped his sword. It clattered to the ground beside him, a lifeless piece of steel once more. "Yuuri", he said him gently. "I'm the one who should be apologising to you. I was a fool."

"… Conrad?"

The soldier smiled, regret and self-loathing tinged with relief at being addressed by his name once more. "I hurt you. I thought to keep you at a distance – thought that I was doing right by pushing you away, when in fact I was only acting selfishly. And I'm sorry – more sorry than I can say."

Yuuri gaped. "Conrad, I… no, I didn't mean for-"

"-I don't expect your forgiveness", Conrart said before Yuuri could go further, needing to make himself clear, now, while he had the chance. "I only wanted to ask – to implore you – to allow me to make it up to you, in any way you see fit." He took a step forward, and then another, slowly closing the distance between them of his own will. "Anything." Voluntarily exposing his insecurities. Trusting Yuuri with them – the way he had not done with a single other person since he was a boy, too afraid to bare the ugliness of the truth to the world. "Please." Awaiting judgement.

A part of Conrart expected Yuuri to see him so exposed, and to react with revulsion. Now that he finally understood the depth of Conrart's vulnerability, Yuuri would cast his own mistaken kindness and desire aside, find someone infinitely more suited to bestow them on. Upon realising who Conrart truly was, Yuuri would no longer want anything to do with him. As it should be.

The other part of Conrart – the part of him that had recognised the connection, tenuous and indefinable as it might be, between he and Yuuri, and had made the choice to tear down the walls of his own making – saw that Yuuri had not yet turned away, and dared to hope.

"Truly, Conrad? Anything?" Yuuri's expression was serious, his voice grave as he too stepped forward.

There could be only one answer, however much Conrart was afraid to give it. Afraid, and elated. "Anything", he said firmly.

And then could barely breathe as Yuuri, with no hesitation whatsoever, moved into the circle of his arms.

He looked up at Conrart, and his sudden smile seemed bright enough to light up the world with its joy. "Be with me."

Again, there was but one possible answer.

"_Yes._"

* * *

It was not the only encounter Conrart would have in the very same training hall that day.

Night had fallen when once again the soldier found himself alone in the expansive chamber, his footsteps echoing hollowly. Yuuri had long since left for the evening, and Conrart knew that he himself would not be sleeping for several hours yet, despite the late hour. Rather than only frustrate himself by attempting to lie still in his room, listening to the stifling silence and sweating in the oppressive summer heat, he retraced his footsteps of that morning and eventually came to the centre of the empty hall, though he did not bother this time to remove one of the swords. He simply stood, breathing in deeply of the slightly fresher air and wondering what Yuuri was doing. They had not had the chance to talk much again that day, although the younger man had, predictably, been much on Conrart's mind. Was he already asleep now? Did he dream, and if so, what of? Either awake or lost to awareness, what thoughts troubled Yuuri deep in the night, when the shadows closed in around him and nobody was there to keep him at bay? For the umpteenth time, Conrart recalled his own dream from the previous night, and shuddered. He did not know where that dream had come from, or why, but it was something he wished he could forget.

"What are you doing here?"

Conrart spun around, although his face betrayed none of the rude shock of being intruded upon so suddenly.

Then Gunter von Christ was stepping out of the shadows near the door, and Conrart inwardly cursed. The man was undeniably skilled – he would have had to be, to be able to catch Conrart so unawares – but Conrart had never been on easy terms with his instructor. The white-haired demon set Conrart on edge; although Lord von Christ had done nothing in particular to earn Conrart's animosity, he had keeping a watchful eye on Conrart from day one, which Conrart both knew and resented.

When Conrart did not bother replying to his query, Lord von Christ frowned. "It is forbidden for all trainees to carry a sword outside of class."

Conrart raised an eyebrow, purposefully unconcerned. "Then it is fortunate I am not carrying a sword."

"Not now, though you were this morning."

How had von Christ known about that? Well, the man certainly wasn't lacking in deviousness.

"Likewise, leaving the training school without consent is strictly forbidden", the demon continued.

"For which I am still completing my punishment", Conrart pointed out coolly. "I have not left again since then."

"But you will in the future."

Conrart could hardly contradict that. He remained silent.

Lord von Christ sighed. "Lord Yuuri came to me today to ask me if I would grant you leave from the school in the evenings, and on those days which we forgo training. It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse him, as he has no jurisdiction over the rules set by either me or this academy."

_That_ certainly surprised him, although Conrart took care to hide it. Was Yuuri attempting to lighten Conrart's load somehow, make his time as a trainee among his peers easier to bear? Had he been so obvious? It seemed Yuuri had seen right through him. "But you didn't do so?" Conrart asked, genuinely curious.

"I told him I would consider the matter", Lord von Christ said. "I do not know why he asked me this, though I can guess." His tone was laced in disapproval. "Tomorrow I will give him my answer." When Conrart only regarded him, unspeaking, Lord von Christ sighed again, as though trying to talk to an unruly child. "Is it so difficult adhering to our rules?" he asked, and it was clear the question was rhetorical, born of exasperation. "You attend the majority of your classes and maintain excellent grades in nearly everything, yet your flagrant disdain for this academy and everyone in it is evident. Your relationship with the other trainees – such as it is – is volatile at best. Other instructors have said the same thing."

Conrart shrugged, affecting nonchalance. He would die before admitting, especially to this man, how difficult, how maddening, it indeed was to have to suffer through every single day while feeling the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes on him, knowing in the pit of his stomach that any number of the men who trained by his side would as soon stab him in the back than break bread with him. Like an infection, this realisation only spread and festered day by day, until it was nearly all Conrart could think about. It was something von Christ, with his doubtlessly untarnished background and impeccable upbringing, could never hope to understand, and Conrart refused to enlighten him. He made no reply.

"Fine." The instructor stalked to the back of the hall, and without further conversation, retrieved two of the swords stored there. One of these, he handed to Conrart, his features impassive, before moving to stand a few paces away, facing Conrart directly. "Defeat me", he said, "and I will grant Lord Yuuri's request."

Conrart could not disguise his disbelief this time. "Are you serious?"

In response, Lord von Christ only unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion, holding it before his body in ready position, his expression blank as a fresh sheet of paper.

"I thought duels were forbidden. As was carrying a sword outside of class – as you yourself pointed out a moment ago."

Not with a flicker of an eyebrow did Lord von Christ acknowledge that Conrart had spoken, and Conrart felt the familiar spark of anger catch alight, welling up inside him like a flame. "Very well", he said tightly. "Though I don't know what will come of this." He drew his sword, casually tossing away the sheath, if only to irritate the other man.

In the heavy stillness that followed, Conrart did not speak again – gave no warning whatsoever as he charged at his opponent, knowing that Lord von Christ was at least skilled enough to be able to defend himself in time.

What Conrart did not expect was for Lord von Christ to strike ahead of him. Admittedly taken aback by his speed, Conrart hastily blocked the attack, his sword held nearly completely horizontally across his body as the demon's blade caught it neatly in the middle. The clash of steel resounded harshly, breaking the quiet as violently as a thunderclap. Conrart swung again before the sound had the chance to fade, and this time it was Lord von Christ's turn to defend. Conrart pressed the advantage, increasing his momentum and becoming more aggressive with his attacks, certain that he would get beneath the other's guard.

But he couldn't. To his astonishment, Lord von Christ blocked every single one of his blows, looking for all the world as though he were merely toying with Conrart, fending him off for lack of anything better to do. Clenching his jaw, Conrart moved faster still, raining down strike after strike and growing more and more frustrated with each that failed to properly land.

Finally, breathing heavily, he was forced to move back, glowering at his opponent and searching for another opening while he struggled to regain some of his composure. In contrast, Lord von Christ was utterly impassive, not even seeking to chase Conrart down but just standing, watching. Waiting.

Infuriated more than he would have thought possible by the absence of any real reaction, Conrart growled and rushed towards him, determined this time that he should succeed. Deliberately not holding back any of his power, he swung, hard and furious.

And his sword went flying through the air, spinning wildly from the force with which Lord von Christ had disarmed him. It landed several feet away, glinting in what little light permeated the room, faintly accusing.

Silence fell again, as Conrart recovered from his shock and exertion sufficiently enough to once more mask his emotions, walking with at least a pretence of calm back to where his sword had fallen. "Just as expected of you", he said as casually as he could manage, back turned to his instructor. "However, the next will-"

"-Please stop", Lord von Christ interrupted dispassionately. "No matter how many times we repeat this, at your current level the results will be the same."

Beyond anything else Lord von Christ had said or done that night, this enraged Conrart.

"Lord Conrart Weller", the demon carried on, not giving Conrart a chance to respond. "Why do you bear a sword?"

"_Why?_"

"There are many of those living among us – the heretical children born of the union of human and demon. Is it a sword you wield in order that you may prove their strength?" Unable to fully hide his surprise at the question, Conrart could not answer as Lord von Christ spoke again. "If that is the case, then do you care nothing for your own self? Such a sword cannot defeat me."

"Can you say that to me?" Conrart answered sharply, his own flaring temper provoking a retort. "Chatting like this on the field of battle, swinging a sword around in a peaceful school building… someone like you-"

"-I'll ask you once more", Lord von Christ interjected evenly. "What is your sword for?"

And Conrart had no answer for him. None. The hush of the building seemed to press in on him now, mocking him for his lack of any intelligent reply. Conrart could do nothing but glare as Lord von Christ sheathed his sword, his movements as natural as if this was an everyday encounter for him, and quietly replaced it. He did not look at Conrart as he began to walk away, leaving Conrart alone once again in the gloom of the hall.

Conrart was about to call out to him – to say something, anything, to defend himself with – when Lord von Christ paused for a moment in the entranceway, speaking with his back still turned to Conrart. "You have my permission to come and go as you will, so long as you do not shun your lessons and return here by curfew each night", he said, startling the soldier. "I will respect Lord Yuuri's wishes – for now. But you would do will to think on what I have asked you tonight. Maybe someday, you will come up with a satisfactory response."

He did leave then, abandoning Conrart to his thoughts and the encroaching shadows.

It had, he mused later, once his fury had gradually abated to a dull, throbbing pulse, been a rather strange day.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	7. Chapter VII: Heat

As the days continued to stretch out, long and hot, Conrart took advantage of his newfound freedom to spend most of his evenings with Yuuri. Summer felt never-ending, but the warmth now seemed more expansive than oppressive. Perhaps even he had not realised just how heavy his perceived imprisonment weighed on him until he was suddenly free of it – at least, outside of class. Yet even his training was somehow more bearable now that he had something to look forward to at the end of nearly every day – something that was his, and his alone.

Yuuri was _his_. The notion still giddied him. Conrart was sometimes afraid that he might wake up to find it had all been a fantasy brought on by the heat, because how else could he possibly begin to explain how he had stumbled upon such fortune? He was sure he had done nothing to deserve such a man as Yuuri. But Yuuri only smiled at this, and told Conrart that he felt the same way. As if he thought _he_ was lucky to be _Conrart's_. It was like Conrart had strayed into another world.

He spent his time learning Yuuri – every lowered glance, every inch of pale skin, every inflection of his voice – and not minding in the least that Yuuri was learning him in return.

He discovered that Yuuri was in many ways Conrart's exact opposite: quick to smile, eager to please, and a stubborn idealist. Yuuri also abhorred war – hated violence of any kind, in fact.

"Sometimes war is necessary", Conrart told him once, and Yuuri turned from where he had been lying on his side on the grassy bank to face him.

"But war is never _good_", he insisted. "No matter which side wins, everyone involved must still always lose in the end."

Conrart wondered aloud whether this meant that Yuuri would not defend himself if he happened to be attacked in the street.

"Certainly I would", Yuuri told him seriously. "But I would never willingly harm another living being. Violence should always be the last resort, and even then is never a desirable outcome." Then his eyes sparkled playfully, his tone lightening. "Of course, simply because I loathe violence does not mean I am ill-prepared for it. I was trained in the use of a sword just like any other. My father insisted, and it is common sense besides."

He found two long, sturdy sticks to use as makeshift swords then, and coaxed Conrart into sparring him. Conrart quickly found that Yuuri's slender figure held a wiry strength. He was fast too, darting artfully around Conrart's guard several times until the taller man eventually used his greater strength and superior training to send a now laughing Yuuri to the ground, before promptly stealing a kiss. Yuuri's lips tasted of fresh water and sunlight.

Yuuri worked hard in the infirmary, diligently attending to his craft and performing his duties with utmost sincerity – there was nobody that Yuuri did not want to help – but Conrart noticed right away that Yuuri loved being outside. He would unconsciously tilt his face towards the sky, sighing happily whenever they left the confines of the training school. Yuuri liked to be by the water too, and the pair often found themselves by a secluded part of the river bank as the shadows lengthened lazily around them, removing their boots and rolling up their trousers to dandle their feet, or else simply reclining in the dappled shade of the trees. Both men normally preferred this to the loud rush of the town – Conrart because he had long since developed a distaste for the suffocating press of bodies and invasive, never-ceasing noise, and Yuuri because he disliked being stared at. While not precisely shy – Yuuri was often quiet, but not afraid to speak his mind – it was obvious that he did not enjoy causing a stir. Conrart knew that Yuuri had taken to wearing a reddish-brown wig whenever he left his house to run errands, and did not blame him for this. Each had their reasons for wishing to remain unnoticed.

Neither was Yuuri timid about showing his affection. He was, Conrart swiftly noted, a very tactile person who apparently enjoyed exploring Conrart's body just as much as Conrart enjoyed exploring Yuuri's.

As a general rule, Conrart did not like to be touched by others; he usually found the awareness of another's hands on him an unwelcome and intrusive sensation. But Yuuri… Yuuri was different. He ran the tips of his fingers over the lines of Conrart's muscles, curious as a child, but never seeming to push. He followed the contours of Conrart's form with his hands, mapping out every ridge and crevice with soft, inquisitive strokes. He dropped butterfly kisses on each of Conrart's scars and then responded with obvious pleasure when Conrart kissed him, hungrily and ferevently, in return. Yuuri reddened whenever Conrart complimented him or called him beautiful, protesting that Conrart was far better looking than he, but was rarely nervous when it came to physical intimacy. This puzzled Conrart at first – he had pegged Yuuri for being rather bashful about anything that bordered on the sexual, yet Yuuri was typically nothing of the sort.

"What did you expect?" Yuuri replied slightly impishly when Conrart brought the subject up. "I am a healer, after all – there is nothing you can possibly have that I've not seen before."

Conrart pointed out that Yuuri had blushed when they first met, and even then only because he had had to remove Conrart's clothing.

Yuuri flushed a little again at this. "I thought you very handsome", he replied self-consciously. There was a pause, before he went on, "And in any case, I was once engaged you know."

Conrart gaped, completely taken aback and unsure how to respond, and Yuuri laughed at him gently. "I am teasing you, Conrad. Well, mostly. I was indeed engaged, but it was an arrangement between our respective families, nothing more. He is a good and kind man, but above all a friend."

Conrart made a concentrated effort to unclench his fingers. "Besides", Yuuri carried on almost absently. "I feel as though I knew you already before we had ever met. Perhaps we recongised each other from a past life."

Did Yuuri believe in such an idea? Conrart asked him, and Yuuri replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world: "Of course. Don't you?"

They spoke of everything and nothing as the summer continued; Conrart recounting some of the adventures he'd had when his father had still been alive, Yuuri talking about his own childhood – according to him, much of it spent climbing trees and hiding from his teachers.

"Mischievousness runs in the family, or so I'm told", Yuuri grinned at him, and Conrart could believe that now. Yuuri was solemn when he worked, but shed this side of him like a cloak whenever he was outside of the academy and alone with Conrart. Conrart treasured this side of Yuuri, clasping it to himself like a talisman.

They took turns swapping secrets. "I'm actually terrified of sand bears", Yuuri told him furtively.

"And I think bear bees are adorable", Conrart returned.

"I wanted to be a pirate when I grew up."

"I wanted to become a masked crime-fighter I made up called the Blue Wind."

"I once tricked my teacher into putting salt instead of sugar into his tea."

"I once accidentally knocked over Mother's favourite vase and hid the pieces in a storage closet."

"I played hide-and-seek with my brother but left him hiding so that I could sneak outside to go swimming in the river during a rainstorm."

"I'm afraid my brothers despise me." Conrart blinked. Where had that come from? He was sure he hadn't meant to say it. He looked away from Yuuri as his vision momentarily blurred, and felt the other pull him close, bringing their foreheads together until they touched softly.

"No. Oh no, Conrad", Yuuri whispered. "You are loved more than you know – of this I am certain."

Conrart wondered if, in spite of the pain, a wound somewhere inside of him was finally beginning to heal.

Only one topic Yuuri refused to bring up. Conrart was sure that this had something to do with the conversation he had overheard weeks earlier in the infirmary with Gisela – something that robbed the light from Yuuri's eyes and replaced them with shadows. Sometimes he saw another side of Yuuri that worried him – one that was paler than usual, expression strained, and Conrart had to remind himself not to pry. Yuuri would, he was sure, open up in his own time, although Conrart longed to destroy whatever was responsible for preying on Yuuri with such a burden. He saw it brush past Yuuri occasionally, making him appear fearful and withdrawn and reminding Conrart that a darkness continued to lurk within, far down where the soldier could not yet reach.

But more often, their days were filled with quietly shared laughter and slow, languorous explorations of one another's bodies, and a bone-deep contentment that held a near dreamlike quality.

Conrart thought he had never before known such peace.

* * *

By unspoken agreement, Conrart and Yuuri kept their relationship mostly to themselves, but two people did not seem to share in their pleasure. One of these was Lord von Christ, whose mouth thinned into a hard line of disapproval whenever he came across the two of them together.

The other was Josak.

Conrart knew at the back of his mind that he had been neglecting his companion. They had not met since their conversation just before Yuuri's official introduction to the officers' academy, and as the days turned into weeks, Conrart felt less and less inclined to talk with Josak about it. He could not quite put his finger on why this was, except that his most recent times with Josak, spent mostly drinking and half-purposefully getting into fights, now felt immature and even tawdry. Whether he was consciously aware of the effect Yuuri was having on him when they were together or not, Conrart knew he was not quite the same person he had once been. His fury and his wounded pride still waited to lash out, angrily and bitterly, beneath the surface of his newly discovered happiness, but it was as though this part of him was presently slumbering, and Conrart had no desire to wake it. Nonetheless, Josak was his friend and brother-in-arms – he alone had stood by Conrart when the world seemed at its darkest, and Conrart would never forget it.

Mentioning something of his feelings to Yuuri, the younger man encouraged him to seek Josak out once more. "It's not right that I should monopolise all of your time", Yuuri told him earnestly. "Go to him, Conrad. He cares for you deeply, as I know you still do for him. And…"

"… And?" Conrart prompted when Yuuri didn't finish.

"And I think he will be very important to you, when the time comes", Yuuri told him. There was an odd ring to his voice, and his eyes took on an unnaturally distant appearance. "He is connected to you, and will yet have a vital role to play. Don't abandon him." Then he smiled, rubbing at his temple absentmindedly, and the strange expression vanished. "Friends are important right?"

Conrart could hardly argue with that.

It was another hot evening, close and muggy, when Conrart searched Josak out and found him, sitting alone in one of their frequented taverns. Josak got up and clapped him on the shoulder when he saw him, and Conrart quickly offered to buy him another drink.

"It's been a while", Josak said, scanning Conrart's face. "I was worried they'd taken your punishment a bit too far."

"Hardly", Conrart told him, and they shared a knowing smile, knocking their mugs together.

"So", Josak lifted an eyebrow after a few thirsty gulps. "What's the news? I've heard nothing from your neck of the woods in an age, it seems. They been keeping you under lock and key?"

"Just about – for a while anyway", Conrart replied, wondering where to start. "You first though. How is everyone doing?"

Josak gave a careless shrug. "Same as always. As well as anyone connected with humans can when they're living among demonkind. But we do alright for ourselves."

"Nobody's being treated unfairly?"

Again, Josak shrugged. "Unlike the officers' school, we common soldiers get some pretty lowbred sorts. We fight amongst ourselves sometimes, but nothing serious. What about you?"

Conrart smiled, the expression a little ironic. "There are similarities", he said, and Josak laughed shortly.

"I'll bet." Then the conversation turned towards the inevitable. "Did you ever track him down again?"

"Who?" Conrart asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know who", Josak frowned. "Your double-black. What was his name?"

"Yuuri."

"_Yuuri_. Right."

Conrart took a sip of his ale, buying more time to think. "… I found him. Or rather, he found me. He started work in the infirmary. It turns out that he and Gisela were already acquainted."

"He's a medic?"

"Not exactly", Conrart hedged.

"Then wha- no way, a healer?" Josak asked, and gave a low whistle when Conrart nodded. "You sure can pick 'em."

"… That's not all", Conrart admitted into the silence.

"Hell, what else did you manage to get into the last few weeks?"

"His full name is Yuuri von Wincott."

Josak's flash of surprise was almost comical. "Von Wincott? As in, _the_ von Wincott?"

"Yes."

Josak's eyes glittered. "Interesting. And what did such a fancy lord want with you?"

"I… nothing. He didn't want anything."

Josak snorted, leaning casually back in his seat. "You know as well as I do that men like that always want something. Money. Power. Favours. You'd do well to steer clear of people like him."

Conrad pushed back his annoyance. "Yuuri's not like that. Yuuri is… different."

"Different? Different how?"

Conrart struggled to explain. "He just is. He's… I don't know how to describe him. But he's real, Josak. He doesn't care for his name or his influence. You'd see it for yourself for a second if you met him."

"But I haven't", Josak pointed out, a sharp note in his voice. "And if you took a step back, you'd probably be able to see the bigger picture for yourself."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

Josak held up his hands as though pacifying Conrart. "Meaning, I know you two have been spending a lot of time together, that's all. I saw you passing through town the other day, though you didn't notice me when I called out. Too busy not keeping your hands to yourselves, from how it looked to me."

There was something other than mere friendly teasing in the way he said it, and Conrart flushed, half-embarrassed to be caught out by Josak and half-irritated by his friend's attitude. "It's true we've been in each other's company a lot", he said, swallowing down his temper. "But it's because of that I know who he really is, not in spite of it."

Josak took another large mouthful of his drink, placing the mug down harder than strictly necessary and swiping at his mouth. "It's not like you to be swayed by just a pretty face, Conrad." When Conrart made no reply, Josak sat back in his chair, surveying him carefully.

"You're in love with him."

"I… what?"

"You heard me. Yeah. It all makes sense now. Why you've been conveniently avoiding the rest of the world. How you can stand to have him touch you like that. You're in love with him. With _Yuuri._"

"Don't say his name like that", Conrart said quietly.

"Like what?"

"Like you hate him. Like you know him enough to do so."

"Oh, I know plenty", Josak retorted. "I know you haven't so much as tried to meet me in all the time Yuuri's been around. I know you've had your head manipulated by a fancy lordling with an impressive name. I know you've fallen for the likes of someone just like all the rest of them – shallow-minded and greedy and pathetic. I'm surprised you even-"

"-Shut up", Conrart warned him.

But Josak refused to stop. "Don't tell me you haven't realised it for yourself. I bet he's laughing at you behind your back, just like everyone else. What happened to us against the world, huh? To telling them to shove their ridiculous rules and watch them destroy themselves with their own stuck-up arrogance? Now you're on _their_ side?"

"I'm on nobody's side!"

"You used to be on mine!" Josak glared, the hurt and resentment plain on his face.

Conrart took a breath, reigning in his anger with an effort. "That's not what I meant", he said. "I've come to realise I was mistaken. It's not like we thought it was, Josak. It doesn't have to be us against the whole world anymore. I don't like the balance of power any more now than I did then, but not every single lord is the enemy. They didn't get a say in to which family they were born any more than we did. It's not fair to just-"

"Oh, I think I get what you _meant_", Josak said, his voice rising again. Disgust coloured his tone. "But what you think and what you say are two different things, and they never were before. You've changed, Conrad! What happened to you? What happened to the man I used to know?"

"Yuuri has changed me."

"He's changed you all right", Josak scoffed. "He's made you weak."

"Stop."

"He's taken away your pride and given back nothing but a bleeding heart."

"I said stop!"

"Is he that good, Conrad? Does he whisper sweet nothings in your ear when he lets you fuck him? Does he make-"

Conrart's chair scraped harshly across the stone floor as he leapt up, grabbing Josak by the shirt front. "I said, _enough_", he growled, low and furious. "Not a word more, or else-"

"-Or else what?" Josak mocked him. "Going to sic your pretty little noble on me? Does he use his teeth in bed too?"

Conrart stilled his hand with less than an inch to spare from Josak's jaw, and the redhead grinned, hard and feral. "Do it, Conrad. Prove you've at least got this much fight left in you."

They stared at each other, neither willing to back down, until at last Conrart uncurled his fingers and released his other hand where it had still been gripping a fistful of Josak's shirt. "I won't hit you", he said.

"Then go back to your precious double-black", Josak sneered. "At least you know you'll have the comfort of someone to warm your bed at night as the rest of us are sent off to die."

Conrart quickly turned his back and began to leave before his rage could surge up a second time, allowing the words to wash over him like water to a flame.

"If you're looking for your courage, you'll probably find it thrown by the wayside, along with your dignity!" Josak yelled after him.

Conrart kept walking.

And though he knew it for the best, he ached for what had once been between them and, despite what Yuuri had told him, what he thought was now lost forever.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	8. Chapter VIII: Fall

**In a few hours I'll be country-hopping and then will be away from my computer for a few days - hence I thought I'd post an update tonight before I left. I'll reply to any reviews when I get back home next week.**

* * *

Conrart suppressed a shiver.

Almost overnight it seemed, the warmth of the sun had been replaced by a sharp breeze that made it clear that summer was truly over. Very soon the first frosts would arrive – already, Conrart could see his breath puffing out in white clouds every morning, and again in the evenings, when the light began to wane ever more swiftly. Despite the length and unseasonable heat of the previous season, snow would perhaps fall early this year.

The thought did not trouble Conrart unduly. Though outdoor training would continue unless particularly heavy snow made it impossible, the cold did not bother him. More significantly, the knowledge that Yuuri waited for him nearly every night so that they might make their way to the noble's townhouse together warmed Conrart from the inside. Though Conrart had worried about Yuuri at first, particularly when the air began to cool so rapidly – past experience with the aristocracy told him that many a noble was incapable of even dressing themselves without assistance – Yuuri's stubborn refusal to employ servants and instead do everything himself at least meant that their time spent together was usually completely uninterrupted. And, as Conrart was now well aware, Yuuri was unlike any noble he had ever met. Not even the gloomy skies could dampen Conrart's spirits, while Yuuri appeared just as content.

And so autumn passed, uneventful but for two things.

The first was an injury.

Yuuri was alone in the infirmary when Conrart and one other trainee half-dragged, half-carried the screaming man between them inside.

"What happened?" asked Yuuri urgently, already helping to guide the wounded soldier to lie down on one of the made-up beds.

"Horse rolled", grunted the trainee on the man's left, trying to hold his companion still so that Yuuri could examine him. "Right over his body. It's his leg – I think it's broken."

Conrart gripped the man's right side, likewise attempting to stop his thrashing while not jostling the injury even further. He nearly had to shout to be heard over the sounds of pain coming from the bed. "Yuuri, do you want me to find Gisela?"

Yuuri bit his lip. "She's not here today – she told me she was visiting the castle with Lord von Christ to tend to some people there who have fallen ill. I don't want to disturb her, and in any case, it would take too long. But… but I don't know if I…"

"_Yuuri._" Conrart spoke intently, seeing the younger man's uncertainty. Their eyes met over the bed. "You can do this. Gisela would never have left you alone if she thought you weren't capable of handling things."

There was no time for anything more. Yuuri took a deep breath and nodded, already moving to the front of the bed where he placed his hands just above his patient's head. A pale, white-blue glow blossomed out to surround his fingertips, and the man instantly calmed, his limbs ceasing in their jerking and his screams fading to whimpers. "It's alright", Yuuri soothed. "Your name is Emil, isn't it?" Conrart was not surprised that Yuuri knew his name. "I know it hurts, but try to focus on my voice for now… that's it, close your eyes… soon the pain will be gone and you will rest more deeply, just focus on your breathing…" Yuuri's voice flowed on, low and comforting, as Emil's eyes fluttered shut, his movements stilling completely as he fell into unconsciousness. Yuuri's eyes closed as well after a minute, and the glow from his hands grew stronger as he concentrated, seeking out the wound with his abilities.

"You can let go now", he said, and it took Conrart and the other trainee a second to realise he was directing his words to them rather than at Emil. They released him, standing back from the bed. If there was any more hesitation within Yuuri at not having Gisela there to guide him, he now gave no outward sign of it, and Conrart felt a stab of pride at the nobleman's composure.

"Do you want us to leave?" he asked softly after a moment.

"I… Conrad, please stay?" Yuuri opened his eyes to gaze steadily at him, and Conrart saw no fear in reflecting back at him in those dark orbs – only the wish to be kept company by someone he knew and trusted.

"Of course." The other soldier who had helped carry Emil inside slipped quietly away when Conrart nodded to him. "Do you need anything else?" he questioned Yuuri.

Yuuri shook his head. "Only time. I do not know if I can mend the bone. Not by myself. The break isn't clean, and there are fragments…" He trailed off, biting his lip again, and then squared his shoulders. "But there is no choice but to try. Will you make sure the room stays quiet?"

"Of course", said Conrart again, and briefly touched Yuuri's hand, letting Yuuri that he was not alone. "I know you can do this."

Yuuri favoured him with a fleeting smile. "With you by my side, how could I not believe?" he murmured, almost to himself, before pulling closer a nearby chair and seating himself by the side of the bed. He leaned over Emil, who could now almost have been sleeping were it not for the starkness of his pallor, and carefully placed his hands over the trainee's leg.

The room fell utterly silent.

Conrart could not do little to help. He got up once to whisper to two of the school's instructors who gathered at the door, but otherwise was unable to do anything but watch, hoping that his presence was in same way a reassurance. Yuuri's face was tranquil as he worked, almost like he too was merely slumbering, but his hands moved steadily up and down Emil's thigh as if in search of something only he could see. Conrart tried to imagine what it would be like – envisioned shattered pieces of bone scattered inside Emil's leg, and Yuuri trying to piece them back together like tiny shards of glass. What had it felt like with Conrart, to have a stream of magic flowing through him as he had been healed by Yuuri those months ago? Had it been warm, or had it felt cool and trickling like water? Had Conrart even remained conscious enough to be aware of it, or had it been impossible to sense? Trying to remember was like attempting to recollect a dream, with the barest of impressions left over in his mind. His eyes went back to Yuuri, who continued to breathe in and out, slow and steady, and after a while Conrart noticed that the injured man had come to breathe in the same rhythm. Whether this was purposeful on Yuuri's behalf or else purely a side-effect of his healing, Conrart could not tell.

There was no way of knowing either how much time passed, with Yuuri yet silent and bent over Emil as though in prayer. At some point his hands had stilled, the scene becoming motionless enough that the two men could have been carved in stone were it not been for the measured rise and fall of their chests. Conrart too moved as little as possible, not wanting to unwittingly distract Yuuri, although he was forced to shift his weight numerous times, unable to stand motionless for so long. Eventually, the afternoon light coming from outside of the window started to dim as day faded into evening.

Finally, after Conrart was starting to worry, Yuuri stirred. His head tiredly lifted, and he scrubbed a hand over his face before his eyes focused on his surroundings. "Conrad…?" His voice sounded rusty and weak.

Conrart was by his side in an instant. "I'm here. Tell me what you need."

"Nothing. I think… I think it's done. I'm not sure, but Gisela…"

"She isn't back yet, but word was sent up to the castle while you were working. She should be here soon", Conrart reassured him. He searched Yuuri's face – saw the marks of exhaustion there, and the cautious, unspoken relief.

Yuuri stood, grimacing a little at the stiffness he no doubt felt from having sat in one position for so long, and looked back down at the bed. "He should sleep for another few hours, at least. I won't know until then if everything is at it should be. And the bone will still be sore, fragile. But the damage is mended, to the best of my ability."

"Gisela would be proud of you", Conrart told him quietly. "_I_ am proud of you."

Yuuri looked up at him and offered a wan smile. He opened his mouth to reply – and his eyes slipped closed as his fell, senseless, into Conrart's arms.

* * *

The second thing to occur towards the end of the autumn was perhaps linked to this incident, although Conrart supposed that nobody would ever know for sure.

Emil's leg mended strong and true. Gisela praised Yuuri's skill when she examined the injury herself after Yuuri had woken again that same night, although she also frowned upon hearing of Yuuri's collapse. "You give too much of yourself", Conrart heard her warn the other healer. "It is your own life force you spend. The more you offer, the higher the risk of your own body paying the price." Conrart had not moved from Yuuri's side once he had carried him to one of the other empty infirmary beds, and he watched Yuuri look down, dutifully embarrassed, although both he and Gisela still seemed pleased at Emil's recovery.

Soon after this however, as temperatures outside plummeted and the weather worsened, sickness swept through the academy like a fire. Those people unlucky enough to be struck by it burned with fever, dizzy and delirious. Gisela and Yuuri worked hard to ease their suffering, but the illness could not be stamped out so readily, and the effort was obviously taxing. Not a single word of complaint passed Yuuri's lips, but Conrart could see the exertion taking its toll on him.

Students who escaped infection were asked to help with whatever Gisela and Yuuri needed – carrying extra blankets, ensuring there was always water on hand, and washing used bedding. "Is this normal?" Conrart asked Gisela in a low voice as he brought over freshly dampened cloths for her, where she was cleansing the sweat from a man's brow.

"The disease is common enough, and usually not serious", she replied briskly, and then conceded, "The symptoms are perhaps more severe than expected. We are lucky to have another healer on hand this year."

They both turned to watch Yuuri, who was speaking in an undertone to another patient and clasping his hand as he slid into a fitful doze. Dark rings circled Yuuri's eyes, although he gave no sign of letting up. No sooner had the man fallen asleep and Yuuri was already turning to another, the bluish glow Conrart had become all too familiar with emitting from his body.

The illness did not abate quickly, despite Yuuri and Gisela's best endeavours. By the time their stream of patients began to slow, the strain on Yuuri had become obvious, and Gisela ordered him frankly to rest when he walked in to the academy early one morning.

"I can't", Yuuri said, and Conrart, who with Gisela's tacit approval had taken to helping Yuuri personally, thought he looked ready to drop. Whether Yuuri had never fully recovered from healing Emil, or whether it was the spread of sickness alone that had drained him so utterly, Conrart was not sure. However, he was not surprised to see Gisela fold her arms, looking stern.

"I can and will handle things by myself today. _You_ are to leave, and I expect Conrart to make sure you get back without incident."

"But I-"

"-No. Enough, Yuuri. You put your own health in jeopardy by staying, and that I will not have. Go home."

It took a while to convince Yuuri, but Gisela would not back down, and Conrart was glad of it. The way Yuuri was clenching his jaw told him that the dark-haired man was battling a headache, and Conrart also noticed that Yuuri's hands were trembling slightly as he fumbled to replace his cloak, reluctantly accepting Gisela's decision.

But Yuuri would not allow Conrart to escort him back to town. "Stay with Gisela, please", Yuuri begged him. "She still needs the extra help, and you've been so good these past few days."

"Yuuri, I don't-"

"Please, Conrad! I'll go straight home, I promise, but I trust you more than anyone to make sure Gisela has everything she needs. I'll sleep as soon as I get back, and you can visit me tonight when things have calmed down again here."

Conrart hesitated, and Yuuri squeezed his hand, entreating. "… Alright. I'll stay. But I _will_ be coming to check on you later", Conrart told him, and was rewarded with Yuuri's beatific smile.

Yuuri finally left, issuing a rush of last minute instructions before Conrart gently shushed him and sent him on his way. But although Gisela kept him and several other volunteers busy fetching and carrying for several hours, Conrart was unable to stop thinking about Yuuri, wondering if he was resting as he said he would. The soldier left at the earliest opportunity, informing Gisela of his departure. Gisela practically shoved him out the door, her own concern for Yuuri not quite hidden well enough to fool him.

Nonetheless, it was nearly fully dark by the time Conrart made his way to Yuuri's house, treading the path he now knew so well. Yuuri's house was soundless when Conrart arrived, and he could see no candles flickering within. He knocked unobtrusively, and then again a little harder when he received no answer. Assuming Yuuri was sleeping, Conrart let himself in through the unlocked door, making his way past the small entrance room and into the kitchen area-

-And nearly tripped over the body, lying still and cold on the hard stone.

"_Yuuri!_" Hastily, Conrart found the candles and bent over the unconscious double-black, who had not responded when Conrart called his name. The light revealed him to be lying on his side, one arm slightly outstretched from where he had tried to break his fall. There was no blood, but Conrart's careful fingers discovered a bump on Yuuri's head, and broken glass was scattered around the room along with small pools of water. Conrart thought Yuuri had probably been getting a drink when he had collapsed, but there was no telling how long he had been lying there, or what had caused him to faint.

Once Conrart had assured himself that Yuuri was physically unharmed, he carried the healer to the bedroom. Yuuri did not so much as twitched when Conrart tucked the blankets securely around him, although there was no fever and his breathing seemed normal, despite the unnatural whiteness of his skin. Conrart thought about running to fetch Gisela, but was loathe to leave Yuuri by himself. He settled for lying down beside Yuuri on the bed, pulling him close and stroking his hair. Silent, heart pounding his unease, Conrart waited.

When Yuuri finally stirred, Conrart's burst of relief swiftly turned to alarm as Yuuri's breathing sped up, struggling in Conrart's grip and crying out something panicked that Conrart could not make out.

"Yuuri! It's me, it's Conrad, tell me what's wrong!"

"Conrad? Oh god, I saw it, I _saw_ it, please don't make me watch again, I don't want to see-!" Yuuri covered his eyes, babbling, and Conrart fought to calm him.

"Ssh, it was only a dream. There's nobody else here, nothing will harm you-"

"-No, _no!_ You can't stop it, nobody can stop it, it's inside me and it will come back when I sleep, _please_ don't let me sleep again, Conrad-" Yuuri was openly weeping now, pleading, shaking in abject terror, and long after Conrart had managed to get him to quieten, he continued to shudder violently in Conrart's hold.

"-it's alright now, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, I swear I won't let go-" Conrart kept up the litany of words, understanding that his voice was more important than anything he actually said, and listening in distress to Yuuri's muffled sobs from where his head was buried against Conrart's chest. He had never thought to see the usually self-possessed Yuuri so vulnerable, so broken.

"You have to promise me Conrad, you have to- I can't watch this anymore, I _can't_, but it won't go away… no matter what I do, even when I'm awake now I can see it happening like it's right in front of me, promise me you won't leave-"

"I won't", Conrart said, his voice as firm as he could make it, and continued to run his fingers across Yuuri's shoulders and down his back, though his mind was racing at the implications of what Yuuri was telling him.

Though Yuuri had not said as much, and although it was just as plausible that Yuuri had simply become dizzy from physical exhaustion and fallen, hitting his head hard enough to faint, something told Conrart that this was not the case. No, Yuuri had _seen_ something – something that had caused him to fall unconscious, where Conrart had found him – and the older man replayed in his mind the snippets of conversation he had taken part in and overheard: _"Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me, and I speak without knowing what I say… I never asked for this, never wanted it…"_ He remembered with sudden clarity, too, the way Yuuri had seemed to be in pain after Conrart had woken up that second time in this very house after being healed by him. Yuuri had almost needed assistance to rise from where had had been kneeling, Conrart recollected. At the time, Conrart had taken it for some form of illness, or else simply coincidence. But when paired with the way in which Yuuri's eyes had appeared to glaze over just a few minutes later, his face wiped unnervingly clean of all emotion…

Yuuri shifted slightly, and Conrart spoke softly against his hair. "Yuuri. How are you feeling?"

Gradually, Yuuri eased himself up, seeming to come back to himself at the question. "My head hurts", he whispered, raising a hand to touch his temple gingerly. Then he looked at Conrart, eyes wide. "Conrad, I think I'm going to-"

Conrart grasped him by the shoulders, only just managing to save Yuuri from falling to the floor as he bent helplessly over, head down and eyes streaming, to throw up the contents of his stomach.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	9. Chapter IX: Watcher

Gisela was no fool.

And so, sometime after Conrart had finished cleaning up and putting a half-conscious Yuuri back to bed, there came a discreet knock at the door. Conrart carefully sat up from where he had been lying beside Yuuri, disentangling himself from the healer's arms without waking him, and went to let Gisela in.

"You didn't come back, so I thought I had better check on you", she said without preamble. Outside, the wind had whipped up into a gale, and Gisela's long plait streamed out along with her dark cloak.

"You mean check on Yuuri", Conrart told her, and Gisela didn't refute this. She looked past him, green eyes drawn to the candlelight causing the shadows to flicker over the walls in the next room. "Is he sleeping?"

"Yes. But you'd best come in. I found him passed out on the floor when I got here, and then when he woke up-"

Gisela pushed past, not bothering with any further niceties, leaving Conrart to close the door behind her and follow her to the bedroom. Outwardly the soldier was collected, but within him his mind was roiling – a churning sea of emotions that showed only in the too-stiff set of his shoulders and the tautness of his tone.

"How long has he been sleeping?"

"Over an hour now. I think it's just exhaustion, but…" He left his sentence unfinished as Gisela looked Yuuri over, her expression not giving anything away as she briskly checked his pulse, breathing and temperature. Conrart was not surprised to see Gisela briefly pry open Yuuri's eyes as well, seemingly satisfied with whatever she did or didn't find there, although he felt a stab of worry when even this did not cause Yuuri to stir. Through it all, the younger man continued to slumber, not making so much as a sound. Conrart too, after briefly filling Gisela in on what had happened, was silent, and for a few terse moments, the only noise came from the wind battering at the windows. Conrart stood by tensely, willing his body not to shake.

Eventually, Gisela stood and turned to face Conrart, her face still unreadable. "He's fine", she said. "Just resting, which his body needs to restore his energy. He used up too much of it, and now… well. This is exactly why people should not push themselves too hard, but especially when something as potentially draining as healing is involved."

"But that's not the whole of it." It wasn't really a question.

Gisela sighed, allowing some of her own tiredness to show. "No. It's not." She gestured for him to follow her into the adjourning room, where they sat with their chairs angled so that they could still keep an eye on Yuuri, still as as a statue in the bed. "You have questions. I will tell you what I can."

Conrart was under no illusions as to what she meant. But then… "I thought you said it wasn't your secret to tell", he reminded her.

She looked at him wearily. "The time for secrets has passed. If you are to stay by his side-"

"-I refuse to leave it", Conrart interrupted her, his voice coming out more sharply than he intended, and Gisela almost smiled.

"Yuuri was right. You _are_ impatient. And proud, and fierce, and protective. I know now what he sees in you." Conrart flushed, a little embarrassed at his outburst, but Gisela waved him off. "No, I don't mean to point these things out as faults. This time. But the fact remains, there are things you must be made aware of. It appears Yuuri has not told you, which makes him about as stubborn as you yourself are, and so time is running out."

Conrart felt his heart speed up in apprehension at these last words, although he didn't really understand why. "Running out for what?"

Gisela shook her head. "That, I do not know. I don't think Yuuri does either, although even if he did, I doubt he'd say anything."

Conrart came right out with it. "He sees things, doesn't he? Bad things. Things that will happen, or might happen."

Gisela frowned a little. "I doubt it's quite so straightforward as that. But to put it in plainest terms, yes."

"Visions. Or dreams. Maybe both."

"Yes."

"He has no control over them, does he? When they happen, or what he sees."

"None." Gisela lowered her head onto her hands, and Conrart abruptly remembered that Yuuri was not simply another of her patients, but also her friend. "I thought at first that it might be something he could learn to contain somewhat", she continued slowly. "To… to shape, or at the very least, to limit, so that his visions did not take him so unawares. I'm beginning to think I was wrong."

"But there are signs", Conrart protested. "Ways to tell when one is coming."

"Were but it that simple," Gisela said, not lifting her head. "He gets headaches, but not all the time, and even then how could you tell the difference between one heralding a vision and one that's simply born of stress or fatigue? Exhaustion seems to increase the chances of him seeing something, but again, that could be coincidence, and it's impossible never to tire in any case."

"But if he was born with this ability, then surely-"

"-You don't understand, Conrart!" She finally looked up, and Conrart was a little shocked by her break in composure. Even in her bursts of anger, shouting at men twice her size and ordering them around like a seasoned general, he had never seen her self-control crack. Never heard real fear in her voice. It could have been a trick of the light, but for a moment, Conrart thought he saw her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Then she blinked hard and carried on: "You don't know what it's like! Nobody does. Do you know how unusual it is for someone to be in possessions of _two_ magics? The toll it has on him? Every time his head so much as aches, or his body feels heavy, wondering if he'll see something that horrifies him?"

"Gisela…"

"No, Conrart, just listen. He's scared, and with good reason. He's a fool for not telling you earlier, but I can't blame him for not doing so. Is it better to tell someone when he sees a vision of them wounded and dying, to caution them and have them live in fear even though he can't tell if it's ever actually going to happen? Should he meddle with fate and inadvertently be the cause of the very accident he was trying to prevent? What about things that have nothing at all to do with him? What is he to do when he crosses paths with someone he doesn't even know on the street and realises he dreamed of them – pass them by and have the guilt at not having warned them consume him, or risk sounding like a madman? There can be no proper answer!" She paused, breathing a little heavily after this tirade, visibly seeking to regain her usual calm.

Conrart averted his eyes from the sight, uneasy, and stared over instead at Yuuri's unmoving shape. Thought about what it must be like, going through every single day in dread of witnessing something unimaginably awful, yet being unable to speak of it. What horrors had Yuuri seen, and kept entirely to himself?

"… I had no idea", Conrart admitted in a low voice.

Gisela's face softened. "No, and you still don't. And neither do I. This is something only Yuuri will ever know the true pain of."

A thought struck Conrart, and he started, feeling all at once sick to his stomach. "If this… ability of his is inherent, does that mean he's been seeing these things from when he was too young to even comprehend-"

"Oh yes." Gisela looked grimmer than Conrart had ever seen her. "Do you know what he told me once?"

Conrart was almost afraid to answer. Mutely, he shook his head.

"He said that one day, his mother found him with a needle in his hand. He had planned to gouge out his own eyes, convinced that if he was blind, he would no longer have to see the visions either." She paused. "He was six."

There could be no reply to that. There was nothing Conrart could say that was capable of fully expressing his shock, and his sudden, furious anger for whatever it was that forced Yuuri to look on, frozen, as he saw time and time again things that nobody should ever have to see. His entire body itched to gather Yuuri up and shield him from the pain of it, never let him go through another day in terror of what might happen, and yet Conrart knew it would make no difference. He was as powerless to help Yuuri as Yuuri himself was of watching.

Conrart and Gisela sat in silence for several long minutes, each thinking their own dark thoughts, listening to the wind howl desolately outside. There seemed nothing more to say. Yuuri was a pale, motionless form in the bed, his breath barely audible as he slept on, blessedly at peace. But for how long?

Eventually, Gisela roused herself and stood, glancing over at Conrart. "I have to go back", she said, her voice thankfully returned to its normal brisk tone. "There's nothing more I can do here, and there are still others who need caring for. I'll be staying overnight in the infirmary again."

"And I'm staying with Yuuri."

"Good. I will make it clear to my father that I've given you permission to do so."

"His permission matters nothing to me", Conrart said a little coldly. "I would stay regardless." He half-thought Gisela might respond to this, but she only nodded, as if she expected nothing less, and Conrart walked her to the door.

About to leave, she stopped on the threshold and turned back to face him, her gaze clear and steady. "I'll be back first thing in the morning. Conrart…"

"Yes?"

"Watch over him. You might not be able to protect him from this, but you _are_ a comfort to him. I am his friend, but you… it's different. He trusts you. As do I."

"I know." The knowledge brought him no particular joy this night, but his hands clenched as if determined to fight off anything that threatened to cause Yuuri harm.

Gisela lifted her brows. "You're in love with him."

Was he that transparent? But Conrart saw no point in denying it, and Gisela smiled, surprising him. "You might think it odd, but I'm glad of it. You're what he needs right now." The wind could not quite drown out her parting words. "And, whether you accept it or no, he's what you need as well."

* * *

Several days after this, the snow began to fall.

Yuuri had seemingly made a full recovery following his collapse, but Conrart watched him like a hawk, aware that Gisela was also doing the same. Yuuri ignored them both and went about his business as though nothing had changed, although they were all aware of the subtle shift that had taken place, and why. Taking his cue from Yuuri however, Conrart did not speak of it, content enough to let things lie for now.

Still, not everything could simply fall back into place exactly as they had been. Yuuri, for all his even temperament and easygoing nature, did not smile nearly as much as he used to. His expression, while kind, appeared somehow distant, and Conrart could tell he allowed himself to properly relax only when they were alone together. Though Yuuri maintained his normal calm demeanor, there was a certain tenseness about him that Conrart wished he could do more to alleviate.

Aware of his own limitations, he therefore attempted to divert Yuuri's attention from it at every turn in the weeks and months that followed.

They bundled themselves up in heavy layers, Yuuri wearing his customary wig, and attended the annual Snow Throw festival, pelting snowballs at each other along with hundreds of other townspeople, until they were red-faced and breathless with laughter. They ate steaming bowls of special winter noodles guaranteed to 'warm you up from the inside out', Conrart looking on, amused, as Yuuri's eyes watered from too much spice. They hired horses and rode out to a lonely place near the mountains where Conrart had once been with his father, and he watched Yuuri's face as it was transformed in wonder at the perfectly frozen waterfall, sparkling brighter than cut diamond. They walked by themselves up a hill when it was time for the castle to put on their mid-winter fireworks display, far above the rest of the crowds, where they spread out blankets and lay on their backs to stare up at the night sky. They spent countless hours simply being near each other, talking and reading and sleeping and lovemaking until it seemed they were the only two people in existence, the rest of the world an illusion.

But none of this could make the tightly coiled anxiety disappear entirely, and both men knew it. It constantly played on Conrart's mind, distracting him in lessons and making his expression pensive enough that Yuuri finally brought it up himself one evening, as they walked closely side by side to his townhouse from the training school.

"You've been very quiet lately", he said gently.

"Have I?"

"Yes. Will you tell me what's bothering you?"

Conrart opened his mouth to explain… and found that he couldn't. He simply wasn't able to bring himself to remind Yuuri, once again, of the healer's private torment – as if Yuuri didn't already have to think about it enough as it was. As much as Conrart felt they needed to discuss it, he could not face the grief and pain that would inevitably cloud Yuuri's eyes at the mention of it.

But Yuuri was looking up at him curiously, tiny snowflakes gathering in his hair, waiting for his reply, and Conrart said the first thing that came to his mind: "Will you go to the castle ball with me?"

Yuuri's expression in that instant was priceless. "I… what?"

There was no going back now. "I said, will you go to the ball with me?"

"Your mother's ball?"

"Yes."

"The one she famously holds every year to celebrate the end of the winter?"

"Yes."

Yuuri's tone changed slightly. "The one you once told me you hated because of all the people there?"

Conrart stopped walking. "The very same."

"Conrad, I-"

"Yuuri." Conrart looked directly into Yuuri's eyes, clasping both of the younger man's hands in his own and keeping them there. "I _want_ you to go with me." And now he did, very much. "It's true, I do hate it. I have ever since I was a boy. But I must go regardless, and I thought… with you by my side, I might…" Yuuri's face, he thought, was truly a sight to behold, the blush tinting his cheeks a rosy pink, his eyes wide and dark beneath the soft inkiness of his hair.

"I…" Yuuri looked nervous now, but there was also a glow in his eyes as he nodded, suddenly breathless. "Alright." He looked down. "I've never been to the castle before. I confess, I am nervous at the thought."

"I am too", Conrart admitted.

Yuuri bit his lip in a familiar gesture of nervousness. "Would you mind terribly if I wore the wig? I don't want…"

Conrart let go of Yuuri's hands to place one on each side of the nobleman's face instead, tilting his head up so that he could quell Yuuri's fears with a heartfelt kiss. "I would not complain if you wore a paper sack, if I could be the one to escort you in it."

Yuuri gave a shaky laugh at the image. "I imagine I can do a little better than that."

"I imagine you can. But in fact, I don't care about any of that. Not one bit."

"No?"

"No."

And not wanting to waste the chance, Conrart kissed him again – unmindful of the snowflakes that continued to tumble noiselessly around them, not even minding that they stood in the middle of the road where anyone might see. Not minding anything else in the world in that moment, so long as they had this.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	10. Chapter X: Betwixt

**Yuuri's outfit in this chapter is loosely based on the one he's seen wearing in season 3, episode 7 of the anime.**

* * *

"You're early."

Gisela stepped out of Yuuri's house, closing the door behind her.

Conrart blinked at the sight of her. Though not unwelcome, he had not expected to see Gisela tonight. "I didn't know how bad the roads would be – I thought the carriage might be slow going, although I think it is still too cold to get stuck anywhere", he replied. "Where's Yuuri?"

Gisela looked like she was fighting back a smile. "He's coming. He's-"

The door opened again, and a person who was most definitely not Yuuri stepped out. Unless of course Yuuri happened to be wearing a long blue dress with sweeping skirts and delicately puffed sleeves, complete with prettily bobbing brown curls and an early spring blossom pinned in to his hair.

Conrart could not help himself. He gaped. "_Yuuri?_"

Yuuri's fingers squeezed together anxiously. "Um. Yes."

"What- why- how did you-"

"Gisela helped." Yuuri stared at the ground. "Even with the normal wig, I thought I would be too recognisable. I'm sure many of the nobles who will be present at the ball know my family personally." He paused, obviously still worried. "… Are you angry with me?"

Conrart managed to get hold of himself and stepped closer. It was certainly astonishing – never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Yuuri in a dress. The subtle patterning on the bodice, leading up to a high and slightly frilled collar, even created the illusion of a curve. And despite the fact that he supposed Yuuri cut a rather charming figure in the powder-blue gown and long chocolaty tresses, there was nothing Conrart found particularly alluring or sensual about Yuuri playing the role of the opposite sex.

Still, once he got over the initial shock of it, it _was_ undeniably funny.

Conrart reached out to tug gently at one of the loose curls. "I'm not angry", he said, and let the beginnings of his grin show. "I don't know if it would be a complement or not by saying that you make a convincing woman though."

Yuuri smiled back, relieved. "I know this isn't what you probably had in mind when you asked if I might be your escort."

"He should be grateful to be allowed to escort you at all, a pretty thing like you", Gisela chimed in, green eyes reflecting her own amusement at the situation.

"Oh, I couldn't agree more. Well then." Conrart swept into a graceful bow, taking hold of Yuuri's hand and bringing it to his lips in one fluid motion born from many years of practice. "It is an honour, my lady. And who do I have the pleasure of escorting this evening?"

Yuuri's lips parted in a silent 'oh'. "I hadn't even thought of a name", he admitted sheepishly.

Conrart could not pass the invitation by to tease him a little. "How about Bertha?" he suggested.

Yuuri went along with it, hands on his hips. "Do I really look like a Bertha to you?"

"Perhaps not. How foolish of me. Well then, what of Mavis? Especially when you make that face. No? Stop me when I hit upon one you like, then. Hattie. Maude. Prudence. Agn-"

"Julia."

Both Conrart and Yuuri turned to stare at Gisela.

"What?"

"Julia", Gisela repeated.

"Why Julia?"

Gisela shrugged. "I don't know. It just came to me. Don't you think it suits him?"

Conrart returned his gaze to the young man in question. Yuuri's skin appeared to glow as he looked back at Conrart, smooth and creamy pale against the dark of his eyes.

The name did indeed suit him, although Conrart could not think why. "Julia it is then", he said quietly. And then: "You are beautiful, Julia. Yuuri."

"So are you… you've had your hair cut", Yuuri noticed, seeming surprised.

Conrart felt an unfamiliar prickling of self-consciousness. "Do you not like it?"

"I do. It's different, but it makes you seem… well, just different somehow", Yuuri said. "Not younger, exactly, but newer. Lighter." His arm stretched out to touch the shorter strands, and in the same instant, Conrart found himself leaning forwards.

They both paused, their bodies not quite touching, each waiting for the other to make a move. The moment stretched out between them. Long, yet also somehow ephemeral. A heartbeat, caught fluttering in time.

Gisela cleared her throat.

Yuuri jumped, as though caught in something improper, and the spell was abruptly broken.

"It's getting cold out here", Gisela said, as though scolding them both, although there was no real exasperation in her tone. "_Some_ of us still have work to do this evening."

At least she had given Conrart the chance to remember how to breathe. "Indeed." He took Yuuri by the hand again. "We will take our leave then. If I may?" He turned to Yuuri again, this time deliberately pitching his voice low while gazing directly into Yuuri's face, and watched him blush despite himself.

"Thank you, Gisela", Yuuri spoke somewhat belatedly, finding his voice again as Conrart handed him into the patiently waiting carriage.

"Remember what I told you – keep your voice as soft as possible without resorting to mumbling, and I think you'll do." She gave a cheery wave, looking the tiniest bit impish at Yuuri's sudden bashfulness, and before either Yuuri or Conrart could say anything more, the carriage started back to the castle.

They made good time, although Yuuri seemed unsure of exactly where to look as the carriage trundled through the now mostly empty streets. The ground was still hard, frozen under a layer of thick frost, although Conrart knew that within the span of a few days, much of the ice would likely begin transforming into sludge as the weather thawed. Spring was not yet truly arrived, but even through the still bitterly cool temperatures and biting gusts of wind, he could tell that winter was drawing to a close. Already, a few of the first spring buds were starting to shoot up, defying the chill and bravely heralding the turning of the season.

They passed rows of guards as they drew nearer their destination, many of them known to Conrart, the path lit up by lines of flaming touches. All too soon, the gates of the castle were looming before them.

"We're here", Conrart told Yuuri as the carriage slowed and eventually stopped altogether. He could hear the strands of music coming from the dance hall, see the spill of people lining up to enter, smell the veritable waves of perfume.

"I'm more nervous than I thought I would be", Yuuri confessed, smiling ruefully at himself.

"Don't be. If anyone should be nervous, it's me. Do you know, I haven't entered the castle walls once since I met you? This is supposed to be my home, and yet…"

Their hands met, fingers weaving together in mutual comfort.

"Then I suppose we are well matched", Yuuri laughed, making an effort to shake off his uneasiness, and Conrart, although confronted with a surge of apprehensiveness of his own, could not help but return the smile.

There was no further need for words between them.

"My lord? My lady? May I assist you into the ballroom?"

Conrart shook his head, dismissing the hovering servants. Tonight, all of his attention was for Yuuri alone.

They left the safety and relative anonymity of the carriage, Conrart once again playing the part of gracious nobleman as he helped Yuuri down, and then on into the blinding brightness.

* * *

"Mother. It's good to see you again."

"Conrart! It's been so long – wherever have you been hiding? I came to see you, but Gunter told me weren't there", Cheri pouted, her lips gleaming a rich scarlet. She pulled her son to her when Conrart made to kiss her heavily powdered cheek, holding him tightly enough to squeeze the air from his chest.

Conrart was not fazed by this outburst of attention. His mother had always been very demonstrative with her affections, and even had Conrart been embarrassed, he knew he would have deserved it. Going out of his way to avoid becoming entangled in the social politics of court also meant intentionally cutting himself off from those members of his family who genuinely cared for him, and though she might cover it with extravagant loudness and exaggerated displays of emotion, he was aware that he had hurt his mother with his absence.

"I have been busy, I'm afraid. But truly, I am glad to speak with you again", he told her honestly.

"My Conrart", Cheri smiled fondly. "Always so formal. And so handsome. I know I've told you this before, but you look so very much like your father."

"You look wonderful too, mother."

This was a half-truth. Cheri did indeed look spectacular, with her abundance of golden hair piled artfully up, a few strands escaping to brush at her elegant neck, and a dress that, as usual, showed off her generous curves to perfection. She was clearly in her element – it had taken Conrart nearly an hour to move past the press of other guests that clustered around her, all but swooning when she rewarded them with blown kisses and lively gossip, and she obviously enjoyed their rapt attention. She moved among them like a goddess.

Still, Conrart did not overlook the extra make-up. It was not there to hide any wrinkles, he guessed – Cheri was as girlishly youthful now as she had when Conrart had been a boy – but rather to cover the marks of fatigue. He thought she had grown thinner as well, although she had always held a willowy figure to begin with, and it was difficult to tell for sure. But he knew that her position was more burden than joy to her, and that she longed for a more carefree existence that did not weigh her down, as an anchor to a ship. She yearned for her freedom, but was left with no choice but to drag her obligations after her like chains, pretending for all the world as though they did not cause her to grieve.

"And who is the young lady?"

His musings interrupted, Conrart stepped back to stand beside a now rather bemused Yuuri. "Mother, may I introduce Lady Julia von Wincott, who arrived in Shin Makoku this summer just gone by. Julia, this is my mother and the twenty-sixth ruler of Shin Makoku, Cecilie von Spitzweg."

"But you must call me Cheri", the lady in question added gaily. "Conrart my darling, did you say von Wincott? I must say, I was not aware that my son was escorting someone from the von Wincott family. You should have told me!" she mock-frowned at the taller man.

"Your Majesty." Yuuri dipped into what was, Conrart thought, a very admirable curtsy given the circumstances, and smiled up at the buxom blonde. "I am a distant cousin only, but was all too happy to be escorted by Conrad here tonight. And you are quite right – he _is_ very handsome."

Cheri gave a delighted giggle, clasping Yuuri spontaneously by the hands. "You see, Conrart?" she declared cheerfully. "What did I say about you smiling more? Now all the girls are chasing after you. As they should, too!"

"Yes, mother", Conrart dutifully agreed. Then, once she had released Yuuri from her enthusiastic clutches, he asked her in a lower voice, "How are you really?"

For the briefest of moments, Cheri's mask slipped, and Conrart saw plainly the pain underneath, and the dread, and the helplessness that imprisoned her.

Then she laughed, and the expression was wiped clean, hidden away once more under the façade of bubbly carelessness. "So serious", she cooed at him. "I am perfectly well, _Conrad_." Clearly Yuuri's casual use of Conrart's name had not slipped by her unnoticed. Her smile grew sly. "I do hope the… lady Julia enjoys herself tonight. Take good care of him, my dear", she directed this last at Yuuri. "He is a stubborn child, but his heart is true."

"I know it well", Yuuri said gravely, and Cheri was all wide sparkling eyes and innocent dimples again as she bid them both a good evening, begging Conrart to come to the castle for a proper visit sometime soon before turning towards her next guests.

Yuuri heaved a quiet but heartfelt sigh as they walked away from her, arm in arm. "Your mother is an interesting person", Yuuri said to Conrart in an undertone.

Conrart chuckled. "To many, that would be putting it mildly."

"Also, I'm pretty sure she _knows_."

"It would not surprise me. If Lord von Christ did not tell her, she would have worked it out by herself. My mother possesses a very sharp mind. But for all her unconcerned airs, she is not in the habit of spilling secrets. Your identity is safe with her – for tonight, at least."

Yuuri returned his smile easily. "Then let us put it from our minds for now. Dance with me again."

"With pleasure."

He swept Yuuri onto the floor, joining the myriad of other couples in carefully-pressed suits and jewel-bright gowns, and was forced to admit that he was enjoying himself immensely. Yuuri was practically glowing – despite his former trepidation, Conrart suspected that his natural mischievousness allowed Yuuri to quite enjoy tricking people with his new guise – and his joy was infectious. He chatted shamelessly with the other courtiers, adding his own entirely made-up and highly improbable gossip to the mix, and complemented the serving girls on everything from the decorations to the fruit tarts. They brought him wine, practically falling over themselves to please him, and Conrart shared the goblet with Yuuri, taking turns to sip at the ruby-rich liquor as he got Conrart to point out the various people who Yuuri did not know: "The woman in the butter-yellow dress is Lady Ursula von Mises, who drank so much last year that she passed out on the staircase", and "The gentleman with the tiny beard is Lord Braxton von Humboldt – he spent his father's fortune gambling on horses and then won it all back in a stunning game of cards, completely by accident." Yuuri flicked his eyes to the elderly woman wearing a tiara so studded with gems that it was difficult to properly look at. "That's Countess Eleanor von Trost. Rumour has it that her late husband was a terrible businessman, and that after she took over the household she more than tripled her family's wealth."

"What about the pretty man standing near the door? The one dressed in blue."

Conrart froze. "That's my younger brother", he heard himself say quietly. "Wolfram." Yuuri looked at him, and Conrart tried to sound normal. "Half-brother", he added, knowing there was no fooling Yuuri. "We have not spoken in some time. Or should I say, he refuses to speak to me."

"You don't want to talk about this", Yuuri guessed at once.

"Not tonight", Conrart almost whispered.

Yuuri swiftly distracted him with more questions. "What of the lady in green whose skirts are so big she could barely fit through the door?... The portly gentleman in the red sash?... The tiny woman with feathers in her hair?..."

Despite this uncomfortable moment, Conrart made it through most of the night feeling remarkably calm. Used to gritting his teeth at the raised eyebrows and thinly veiled contempt dealt to him from the various preening nobles, this was an altogether new experience. He did not think it due to a change in their attitude, but rather because with Yuuri by his side, he simply could not bring himself to care as much. Though the gentry's petty arrogance and narrow-minded disdain still rankled, he was able to put it aside, focusing instead on the light in Yuuri's eyes, the way he felt in Conrart's arms as they danced-

"-This way", Yuuri suddenly whispered, breaking Conrart's train of thought.

Conrart did not question him, but quickly steered them away from the center of the floor. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"It's someone I know well. He's sure to recognise me, even dressed like this – which will make things ten times worse if he does catch me. Hurry, this way- oh! I'm so sorry, my lord."

"Well well. Looks like we quite literally bumped into each other, hmm?" The tall, blonde man ignored Yuuri, directing his words to Conrart and laughing in a way that the soldier didn't like.

Truthfully, there was very little Conrart _didn't _dislike about Stoffel von Spitzweg, his mother's older sibling and crown regent. Blustering and not nearly as intelligent as he considered himself to be, Conrart limited his interactions with the man as much as possible. Everything about him made Conrart's shoulders stiffen and his jaw tighten – already he had to remind himself not to glare, fighting the urge to push Yuuri protectively behind him despite the fact that Stoffel had neither said nor done anything to give offence. Yet.

"Uncle." Conrart nodded, but offered no other greeting.

"It's been too long, my boy." Both of them knew this to be a barefaced lie – Conrart was well aware that Stoffel thought no better of him than he did of Stoffel – but agreed as neutrally as he was able, concentrating on keeping his hands flat by his sides. "And who is your charming companion?"

"Of course. Forgive my belated introductions." Conrart went through the motions of acquainting them, not missing the gleam in Stoffel's eye at the mention of the von Wincott family name. Unlike his mother, however, Conrart felt no warmth from Stoffel's gaze. Only greed, cold and calculating.

They exchanged a few more strained pleasantries before Stoffel – rather rudely, Conrart thought – turned his back to Yuuri and continued speaking to Conrart in a softer voice, forcing him to lean closer to listen. "You'll be glad to see the last of winter, I expect."

"And why is that, uncle?" Conrart enquired with the bare minimum of politeness.

Stoffel wagged his finger as though speaking to a child. "Don't think I haven't forgotten. You used to go on and on about being of service to your nation, of proving yourself worthy of my and your mother's family blood. It seems you'll have the opportunity far sooner than we expected."

Conrart could not suppress the mental shiver that accompanied these words, although Stoffel had not elaborated on his words. "What do you mean by that, my lord?"

"Let's just say, we've not been spending the long cold days idly, _Lord_ Weller."

Conrart supposed Stoffel could have simply been mocking his insistence on formality – Conrart had never been able to bring himself to address the regent by his first name – but he was certain Stoffel was mocking much more than only this. With an effort, he kept his expression devoid of the disgust he so strongly felt. "I'm afraid I still don't take your meaning."

"_Meaning_", Stoffel stroked his beard, possibly in an effort to appear genteel, "that we at the helm of this great land plan on ending this war decisively. And you, my boy, are to play your part in it. Just like you always wanted."

Conrart felt a shudder run down his spine. "I don't-"

"Not here, nephew!" Stoffel was likewise avoiding the use of Conrart's name. "We'll talk about things in more detail later." Despite the fact that Stoffel himself had been the one to bring the topic up. "Why don't you go back to the celebrations. Leave the more arduous tasks to us, the rightful leaders of Shin Makoku, and enjoy your youth while you still may."

Conrart very much doubted that Stoffel had intended to make this sound as ominous as it did – even he would not be as intentionally uncouth as that – but Conrart felt the words hit him with the chill certainty of a bell toll, and was unable to completely suppress his reaction.

There was an awkward silence before Stoffel cleared his throat. "Well. I will talk to you again later, perhaps – important guests to see. Nephew. Lady von Wincott." Stoffel's parting smile seemed more like a leer, and then he was strutting self-importantly away, his white embroidered cloak trailing behind him and leaving the pair standing motionless in his wake.

"… Conrad?" Yuuri spoke hesitantly, and Conrart wondered what emotions were playing over his face, for Yuuri to sound that way.

"Yes?" His voice was distant, even to his own ears.

Yuuri's hand on his arm was gentle. "You're shaking. Are you alright?"

He was indeed trembling, although Conrart did not know if it was out of fury or fear. "Yes."

Yuuri merely looked at him.

"No."

"Would you like to leave?"

It was as uncomplicated as that. Yuuri saw right through Conrart – had done so from the very beginning. Shame filled him; he did not deserve Yuuri's understanding or his compassion. But Yuuri would give it anyway, because he loved Conrart. And Conrart, for all his half-buried anguish and residual anger at the world and his place in it, could do nothing in return. Except to love Yuuri back, desperately and wholeheartedly. He was a drowning man, latching on to someone who had not thrown him a rope, but instead leapt unthinkingly in after him.

"Yes. Yes, please."

Conrart did not go back to the training school after they arrived home, and Yuuri did not suggest it.

They made love through the rest of that night, and early into the morning, with a kind of urgency that had never before been present between them. Conrart worried at first that he was hurting Yuuri, until he realised that Yuuri was pulling Conrart towards him just as hungrily as Conrart was, and that his gasps and cries and moans were every bit as unrestrained. Their union was sharp and breathtaking and bittersweet.

They could both feel it.

The end was approaching as surely as the dawn.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	11. Chapter XI: Honour

Spring arrived in a flurry of petals, soft pink and creamy white.

It was beautiful, but the growing warmth and gradual lengthening of the days did nothing to assuage the tension that held Conrart tight in its grip. He was also well aware that Yuuri felt it just as keenly. Yuuri did not need to say anything for Conrart to know that he was not sleeping well at night – the return of the dark, almost bruise-like circles beneath his eyes said it for him, and the soldier wondered if Yuuri, like himself, was plagued once again by barely-remembered yet disturbing dreams, whose meaning Conrart could not discern.

Training at the academy, meanwhile, intensified, as it would now not be long until graduation. The instructors worked their students harder than ever as they sought to hone the skills of those who would soon become fully-fledged officers, and Conrart, seeking a distraction from whatever unnameable thing that cast its shadow across him and Yuuri, through himself into his training with a vengeance.

There was precious little time for Conrart and Yuuri to be alone. During those times when they were able to snatch a few hours of privacy, neither man brought up the subject of what had occurred just before leaving the ball. It was as though, merely by talking about it, they would be tempting fate and bringing whatever chill premonition they had both felt ever closer to reality. Instead, they filled the silence with other things; harmless things that, for a while at least, blunted the edges of their fears and weaken the darkness caused by dread. Even when it came time for Conrart to make good on his word and visit the castle to see his mother, not one mention of that night passed either of their lips.

By unspoken agreement, Yuuri accompanied him on his journey, although the double-black insisted he would walk the grounds while Conrart went inside. "You and your mother should be able to talk alone", he explained, and when Conrart protested, telling Yuuri truthfully that he thought she would probably jump at the chance to speak with Yuuri again, Yuuri only smiled and said a little mysteriously, "It is not yet time."

They braved the still frosty winds and went to the castle on foot, although the exercise had warmed them by the time they entered the castle boundaries. It looked different by daylight; peaceful but oddly empty, even desolate. Their progress was unhurried and largely ignored by those few people going about their business, for which Conrart would normally have been grateful. Now, the almost complete lack of noise and movement made the atmosphere seem sombre and lifeless. The main courtyard in particular, which had once been colourful and bustling, appeared all but abandoned.

Not wanting to add to the general cheerlessness, Conrart quietly pointed out to Yuuri things that caught the younger man's eye – this was a statue that had been built a long time ago by an ancestor famous for his stone-working skills; there were the guest quarters where Conrart had often sought solace whenever he had wanted to be alone; that was the garden his mother had planted and then added to nearly every year since then.

"Your mother planted all these herself?" Yuuri asked curiously.

"Yes. With the help of one of the gardeners, she cultivated each one of the flower types and even gave them all a name."

"There are so many…" Yuuri marvelled, and then his face fell upon walking closer. "These are nearly all withered, even though it's not even summer yet."

"The gardener who helped to care for them went away to war", Conrart replied, and Yuuri stooped down to examine them more closely.

"What's this one?" He pointed to one that should have been bright yellow, but was instead murky and almost brown.

"Beautiful Wolfram."

"And this?"

"Secret Gwendal." It's petals were a dusky green, and drooped down towards the ground as if in defeat.

"What about that one?"

"Cheri's Red Sigh." It had once been a bold scarlet, although the red looked as though it had been nearly all leeched from it, leaving only a tired ruddiness in its place.

"Oh! Here's a flower that seems healthy enough. I wonder why it alone is stretching towards the sun." Yuuri reached out to gently brush the deep blue of the petals with his fingertips. "What is the name of this brave one?"

"I… that one is named after me."

Yuuri turned towards him, dark eyes reflecting his surprise. "Really? What is it?"

It had been a long time – longer than Conrart could remember – since he had been given cause to blush. "Conrad Stands Upon the Earth."

Yuuri stood again, moving to face Conrart fully, and gazed at him for a long moment without speaking. Conrart was still, although his heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud to him, and for some reason he found it difficult to look at Yuuri properly. How could he, when Yuuri was staring at him like that – as though he saw right into him, gleaning all of Conrart's secrets and exposing every one of his weaknesses to the light – and against all odds, cherishing him anyway? It was as though the air itself was holding its breath, waiting.

Finally, a gust of wind rustled the trees around them and stirred the flowers in the garden, and Yuuri blinked. "It is a good name", he finally said, and smiled at Conrart's expression. "You had best go in. You should not keep your mother waiting – she will be happy to see you."

But for once, Yuuri was wrong.

Conrart found the passage leading to his mother's chambers blocked by a string of pinch-faced guards, the leader of whom informed Conrart with an icy politeness that the queen was indisposed and wished to see nobody – not even her own son.

"Will you tell her I am here then? If not now, then I will wait for however long it takes."

Conrart's questions got him nowhere, and nor did his repeated requests to at least notify his mother of his presence. The guard could say only that the queen herself had issued instructions that she was not under any circumstances to be disturbed – not even the crown regent himself could order them to allow Conrart to pass.

Eventually, baffled and anxious, Conrart was left with no choice but to leave without catching even a glimpse of the one person he had come to see. That he had not seen his uncle either was a small blessing, although it did nothing to dispel the uneasiness that was by now radiating throughout his body.

With Wolfram elsewhere in the castle and still refusing to speak with him, and his older brother Gwendal having long since departed to play his part in the ongoing war, Conrart was forced to concede that he was far more powerless than even he had suspected.

* * *

The season continued on, and Conrart graduated alongside over two hundred of his fellow trainees with little fanfare.

Speeches were held, hands were shaken, and Conrart took in almost none of it. Yuuri was an expressionless figure seated next to Gisela on the podium, but Conrart felt both pairs of eyes on him as he took his turn to walk up and receive his congratulations. He kept his own expression equally as blank, but could not help but be slightly bolstered by the fact that two people, at least, still thought well of him.

Several more times in the past weeks he had attempted to visit his mother, only to be greeted with the same, ever more troubling outcome. The message was clear: the queen did not wish to see anyone. Conrart was not welcome. Although he had never let himself be bothered by just how few people he was able to call friends, this latest development now made him hyperaware of exactly how isolated he was, and so Conrart was thankful more than ever for Yuuri's and Gisela's quiet encouragement.

However, he was not quite as alone as he thought.

As he stood apart from the other soldiers after the ceremony, a clear space distancing himself from the now relaxed and laughing soldiers, Emil, the man who Conrart had helped drag into the infirmary after his leg had been crushed, surprised Conrart by coming up to him and clapping him on the back. "Well done", he said, and there was nothing in Emil's voice but an easy camaraderie, untinged by contempt or scorn.

Conrart could only gape at him stupidly. "What?"

Emil looked a little embarrassed. "It can't have been easy. Sticking it out here, even though... well, you know. And you helped me that day, even though we- even though _I_ probably only made things more difficult. So..." He extended his hand, and Conrart, still not able to fully process what was happening, automatically shook it. Emil smiled. "Congratulations. And thank you. Despite what anyone else might say, you're a good man, Conrart Weller. I hope the day soon comes when more people can see it."

It was perhaps a little thing, but this encounter remained with Conrart the rest of the day, lightening his step and causing him to question whether he himself been too quick to judge. That many full-blooded demons, particularly those of noble birth, looked down on Conrart and others of his kind for being of mixed race, was undeniable – and yet, how many people were eager for change? More importantly, how many were there who Conrart, in all his anger and bitter resentment, had wrongly perceived to be against him? Had he mistaken mere silence as disdain, and reserve for hatred?

When the afternoon began to wane and he was able to leave the academy with Yuuri, the younger man noticed the change within Conrart immediately.

"It's the first time I've seen you smile properly like that since the ball", he said, and slipped one slight hand into Conrart's larger one.

"Something happened after the graduation ceremony today. Do you remember Emil?" Conrart briefly explained what had happened, and watched Yuuri's face light up.

"That's one more person in the world who can see past their old prejudices and see someone for who they really are underneath", he said happily.

"One man", Conrart said gently, knowing how passionate Yuuri was about such things.

But Yuuri shook his head. "That is how the world changes, Conrad. A single person at a time, patterns of thinking slowly begin to shift until one day, you suddenly realise that what was once taken for granted is no longer the norm."

Conrart glanced at him. "I would once have told you that that idea was a fantasy."

"You see? So even your opinions have altered this much over the course of a year", Yuuri grinned, before growing serious again. "This is the world I am striving for, Conrad. It is the world that _will_ come, simply because those such as you and Emil are altering their perceptions of what is true and what is an idea people have come to accept as truth."

They were silent a while then, walking close enough for their shoulders to brush, unconsciously treading a path towards the river.

"What will you do now?" asked Yuuri eventually.

Conrart could hear the gushing of the water filtering its way through the trees. "I don't know. What else is there to do but wait?"

"What is it you _want_ to do?" Yuuri amended.

Conrart thought about it, and was once again taken aback by the things that filled his own mind. "I want to make a difference."

"Oh?" Yuuri angled his head, looking up at him.

It was almost laughable, how easily now the words came from his mouth. Josak would certainly have laughed, Conrart thought, and smiled wryly. He _had_ changed, if he had really become so naive. And yet...

"I want to help build the place of which you speak. To aid in creating a kingdom where I, and others like me, can live in peace. Because I too am only a single person, but today, I caught my first real glimpse of the same world I once refused to believe in."

At these words, Yuuri was quiet again, but his grip tightened on Conrart's hand and his expression was one Conrart hoped he would remember as long as he lived.

They reached the river and stood for a while, watching it. It was easy to forget how just a few weeks ago it had still been frozen over. Now it flowed onwards again, rushing forward as though making up for lost time.

Yuuri's voice, when it came, was soft but firm. "I believe you will create that place, Conrad. No. I _know_ it."

They sat, letting the sound of the bubbling water fill the clearing, and Yuuri leaned against Conrart and closed his eyes. Though they remained like that for some time, they did not speak again – content to let the peace steal over them without the need for further words.

But their peace was not to last.

The castle soldiers waiting outside the gates of the academy were Conrart's first warning that something was amiss. They had been talking to one another in low voices, leaning against the pillars with their arms folded casually, but they hastily snapped to attention as they spotted Conrart approaching. Conrart heard Yuuri draw in his breath sharply before one of them addressed him.

"Lord Conrart Weller", he said formally. "You are to accompany us the castle at once."

"Why?" It was Yuuri who spoke, and the soldiers glared at him suspiciously.

"Who-"

"-Answer the question", Conrart told them. "Was it my uncle who ordered this?"

"The crown regent, as well as Her Majesty the twenty-sixth ruler of Shin Makoku."

Conrart blinked. "My mother wants to see me?" He looked at Yuuri.

"Go", Yuuri urged him, as if Conrart had the choice of refusing. "The quicker you are able to see her, the better, isn't that right?"

Conrart nodded, allowing himself to be escorted to a nearby carriage without protest. The soldiers wasted no time in departing once Conrart had seated himself inside, and he leaned out the window to stare back at the motionless figure behind him. Watching Yuuri grow smaller and smaller until he was nothing more than a still, dark shape under the approaching sunset. After that, Conrart simply closed his eyes and let the carriage bear him swiftly towards the castle, steeling himself for whatever was to come.

He was doubly glad, later, of his composure – thankful for his years of training and practiced indifference that enabled him to stand with his back straight and his head held high – and prayed that Stoffel derived no satisfaction from seeing his world fall apart. Only an hour or two before, Conrart had had hope. Of this meeting, Conrart wished to remember nothing. He would have done nearly anything to forget the sight of his mother helplessly weeping, one pale hand over her mouth, barely able to look her son in the face as her older brother loudly berated her for her weakness.

Stoffel's words, however, would be forever burnt into Conrart's mind. "We intend to put an end to this war. You and your kind will prove your innocence and loyalty to Shin Makoku by doing so."

_Ruttenberg._

Conrart had guessed it before the word had passed Stoffel's lips.

His mother continued to cry, shaking her head in denial but cowering from her sibling in something close to fear. "This is your fault", he told her coldly. "We went through the trouble of giving you a chance to redeem yourself." When the queen made to answer, painfully choking out each word between sobs, Stoffel's temper flared. "Be silent!" he shouted. "Shouldn't you be happy that the opportunity has presented itself?" She flinched away from him as if struck, lowering her head until her tears were hidden from sight.

And Conrart – rather than angrily protesting, instead of shouting all the things at Stoffel that he had wanted to for years – opened his mouth to speak the words that he now knew he must.

He spoke with as much dignity as he could muster, and his voice reverberated clearly, without hesitation, in the otherwise near-soundless throne room.

"In that case, my Lord, I will lead these men personally."

* * *

**To be continued.**


	12. Chapter XII: Dust

"Conrad… I'm sorry." Josak stood before Conrart, his eyes very blue against the grim pallor of his face. They were alone in the castle courtyard, and Conrart thought it had never before looked so vast, and so empty. "I should never have said any of that", Josak continued. "It was stupid, and cruel."

"It's fine", Conrart said. He didn't feel angry at Josak anymore. He didn't seem able to feel much of anything now – it was like there was a yawning gap inside him where something had once been, and Conrart didn't know when, if ever, the void would be filled again.

"No, it's not", Josak persisted. "Those things I said… none of them were true. I didn't even mean to say them, it's just… you were so- I was afraid of-"

"-I know."

They stared at each other, and Josak stuck out his hand a little awkwardly, still looking ashamed. "Peace?"

Woodenly, Conrart extended his own hand for Josak to clasp. "Peace", he agreed. But his heart was not in it.

It wasn't that he couldn't forgive Josak. He could, all too easily. He knew well what it was that had made Josak react so strongly that day – was keenly aware of what had caused him to lash out, fear and anger driving his words. Had not Conrart himself once been the same way? The dread of being alone was enough to bring about far more than a simple falling out between friends.

But from the minute he had witnessed his mother's despairing cries, and then seeing Yuuri turn white in abject terror after Conrart had told him what had happened, it was as though Conrart had grown numb to it all. He could spare no energy for rage or sorrow, or even apprehension. He merely existed; the only emotions to breach the shroud that appeared to have stolen silently over him his concern for Yuuri's wellbeing, and the determination to see things through to their end.

"It's funny to think it's finally come to this." Josak gave a laugh, but the sound held no joy. "We're soldiers – we always knew our place was out there on the battlefield. But I guess I just thought… actually, I don't really know what I thought. But not this."

Conrart shook his head. "Perhaps it was inevitable, and we were only fools for not seeing that sooner."

Josak frowned at the hollowness of his tone. "I was told you volunteered to lead the division. Why?" he asked bluntly. "You could have spared yourself that, at least. I would have thought… I mean, you're not like the rest of us. You have someone now. Someone you care for like no other, and who I have to believe cares for you the same way. So why willingly put yourself in this position?"

It was all but impossible to explain, even to himself. Still, Conrart made an effort to do so. "I had no other choice."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not just about me anymore", Conrart attempted to clarify. "It was never just about me to begin with. I was mistaken to ever think it was."

He could tell Josak didn't really understand him. Conrart didn't blame him for that – how could Josak possibly understand when Conrart didn't fully comprehend it either? But it was the closest he could come to explaining it: the urge to put the past behind him once and for all, to lay his personal ghosts to rest. The need to regain his honour, not in anyone else's eyes but rather in his own, and the fervid wish to make good on his word – to help create a world in which he and Josak and countless others could exist, without prejudice or hatred. Such a chance could not be squandered.

It was so much bigger than him; so much larger than he had ever imagined. Yuuri's deepest wish was to see that vision become a reality… yet how could such a future come to pass if nobody was willing to fight for it? He would have been a bigger coward than Stoffel had Conrart refused to shoulder responsibility for his own beliefs, and that was something he knew he could not live with – not without the burden of guilt for doing so for the rest of his days. Better to die a thousand deaths than this.

"What did he say when you told him? The double-bl- Yuuri?" How did he react?"

This, too, was something Conrart could not speak of easily. He could perhaps have explained, had Conrart wished to this time, the effect the news had had on the young healer. How the shock had caused his voice to tremble as he murmured, almost inaudibly: _"You swore you wouldn't leave me."_ How Conrart awoke, night after night to Yuuri's horrified screams, the sight of who knew what causing him to panic until exhaustion overcame him. And how Conrart was utterly incapable of consoling him, holding Yuuri close until he fell asleep again, but unable to tell him the one thing that would have given him peace: "_I won't die."_ It would have been a promise Conrart did not believe in, and he couldn't betray Yuuri that way – not even to bring him comfort. Twice, Conrart had found Yuuri on the floor, curled up tightly and back braced against the wall in an attempt to control his shivering, so violent it shook his body like a seizure.

But Yuuri would still not tell Conrart what he had seen – unwilling to distress Conrart further, yet ironically only prompting Conrart to worry more. And though he did not say it, the haunted look in Yuuri's eyes spoke the message louder than his words ever could have. He would have done almost anything to stop Conrart leaving; anything to put an end to his visions of the possible future he now saw nearly every single day.

But Conrart could say none of this – not even to Josak. The words cut too close, too deep. "… Not well", he finally replied, and Josak wisely changed the subject to something more practical.

"We've less than a month to prepare ourselves. What of the new equipment?"

"Still not arrived", Conrart answered, frowning. "It should have been here by now, but there's been a delay of some sort. I need to see if I can find out what."

Josak gave a noncommittal grunt, folding his arms casually in front of him, but both men knew it was serious. Their lives depended on their armour and their weapons, and their chances of survival, even with the best of equipment, was already precariously slim.

Which made Conrart's biggest concern even more relevant.

"Josak. I have to ask you something."

Josak raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you to sound so uncertain, even to me. What is it, Conrad?"

"Me."

"What about you?"

There was no delicate way of putting it. "I'm not qualified to lead these men. To lead anyone at all, come to that. Why should they listen to me – an officer with no real battle experience, no first-hand knowledge of war? Why put their trust in someone who will almost certainly lead them to their deaths?"

"That's simple. Because you can't possibly be worse than the leaders we've had in the past", Josak snorted, endeavouring to lighten the mood.

"Josak, I-"

"-And because you're a filthy half-breed", Josak said, his expression growing more serious. "A half-human, and a threat to the world as the nobility know it. One of _us_ – a man worthy of our respect. That's all there is to it, in the end. We will follow you to the grave, if it comes to that, and none will protest." He winked, suddenly playful again. "Not even yours truly."

There could be no reply to this. No adequate one. Conrart tried anyway. "Josak…"

Josak made a face. "Come on, don't go all tormented hero on me now. At least wait 'til we've got a couple of drinks down us before pulling that crap. There's a lot here to get done first." He threw an arm around Conrart's shoulders. "Now let's get going. I still have to decide what lucky dress to take with me, and there's literally a whole stableful of horses awaiting your inspection. Captain."

Conrart allowed himself to be led away, sinking slowly back into the dazed detachment that Josak had briefly managed to penetrate with his candour. His friend was right; Conrart could not afford the luxury of giving any more thought to his own petty worries. There was no place for doubt – not in war.

Not even one he was going to die in.

* * *

"No. It cannot be." Yuuri's eyes were wide as he choked out the words, and his hands were shaking when he reached to clutch Conrart's chest. His fingers squeezed the rough material tightly, his knuckles white. "You're lying. It must be a lie."

"It is no lie."

"You were to have ten days more", Yuuri protested frantically. "They can't… you can't…"

"I'm sorry."

"Please! Don't do this!" Yuuri's voice rose, his grip tightening as he begged, pleading with Conrart to change his mind. "I understand! I do. But please… you don't have to do this! The equipment hasn't even arrived, you told me it hadn't, they can't possibly send… you can't-"

Conrart had never hated himself more than he did at that moment, as made himself do the unthinkable and slowly, deliberately, removed Yuuri's hand. He stepped back, schooling his expression to blankness. "But I do, Yuuri."

The pain on Yuuri's face at Conrart's coldness was clear to see. Still, he continued to entreat the older man. "You don't have to prove anything! Not to _them_! Not to anyone."

"No. But to myself, I must." Conrart took a breath, holding himself steady against the urge to hold Yuuri in his arms just one more time, and kiss him, and refuse to let him go. But this was something that Conrart could not allow to happen, and he told himself that the agony he was causing Yuuri now was at least better than a promise he would not be able keep. "Yuuri, I-"

"-Don't! Just don't, Conrad!" The tears that Yuuri was trying so hard to keep in threatened to fall, and Yuuri roughly scrubbed a hand over his eyes, staving them off. "What good is your dream if you die before it comes to fruition?" he asked, desperately. "What does your honour matter if it means throwing away your life for a small group of people who care nothing for you, or for your vision of the future?"

"It means everything", Conrart answered honestly. "Yuuri, I must do this. There is no other way. And if I do not come back-"

"-_No_! Stop! I don't want to hear this, I _can't_-" Yuuri bent over as though physically wounded, his hand covering his mouth in almost exactly the same manner that Conrart had seen his mother cover hers. As though this action would somehow put a halt to the terrible grief that spilt out, raw and anguished. It tore at Conrart savagely, slicing him open.

"Yuuri…"

"No, just listen." With an effort, Yuuri spoke steadily enough, just, for Conrart to make out the words. "All this time, you thought you were somehow lacking. That you were below everyone else, beneath them, even if you knew you did not deserve it. That you were beneath _me_. But you were wrong. And then, when you finally started to believe that you had something to offer the world… that you were worthy of respect, and of love… Conrad, you swore to me, and yet..." He broke off, not able to continue, and it was almost impossible for Conrart not to close the gap between them again. Almost.

He forced his voice to indifference. Calm and remote – a stranger's voice – and prayed that Yuuri would one day forgive him this. "What is it you would have me do, my Lord?"

Yuuri's head snapped up, and he stared, hurt beyond words, at the man standing before him. But Conrart said nothing more, and Yuuri eventually spoke again into the stillness. "I would have you return to me", he whispered.

Conrart shook his head. "I cannot promise you that."

The light would soon be fading, he noticed dispassionately. It was very quiet, in that charmed hush between late afternoon and early evening. Eerily so. How odd that the kingdom should appear so peaceful, when it was Conrart himself who was helping to bring about the end of his own part in it. Strange indeed, that the flowers should be in bloom, the sky nearly empty of clouds, when he would not likely see another day. Had things always been this beautiful, and he only just now coming to realise it?

"… How long?"

Conrart glanced around once more at the gradually lengthening shadows. "We depart at sunset." An hour away, no more.

They stood facing each other wordlessly, the silence between them stretching out until it seemed ready to snap, Yuuri struggling to find some measure of composure, Conrart fighting to maintain his aloofness. But Conrart did not have it in him to be anything but coolly distant when Yuuri gazed at him like that, so vulnerable and so exposed. To give in to his longing and touch Yuuri again would be to shatter into pieces – Conrart knew this as surely as the world would continue to turn, with or without him in it.

"It is time. I must go." He made to turn and walk away, afraid above all else that he would break despite himself.

"Wait!"

He stopped, his back still to Yuuri, and heard the younger man walk over to him. Trembled as he felt Yuuri's hand on the base of his neck, the slender fingers brushing his skin as he fastened something there. And when Conrart looked down, there it was, winking in the last bright rays of the sun, bluer than either ocean or heavens.

"You cannot give me this", he said, his shock enough to crack the surface of his carefully constructed reserve. Conrart had never seen Yuuri take it off – not once in all their time together had it been apart from him. The pendant was warm from where it had lain against Yuuri's bare flesh, the stone smooth and moulding itself to the shape of Conrart's chest as if it actually belonged there.

"It is mine to give as I see fit."

"Yuuri, I-"

"No, do not argue." Now it was Yuuri's voice that was like ice. "Only bring it back to me."

"I don't-"

"-And when you do, marry me."

Conrart whirled around to stare at him. "I can't", he gasped, stricken.

"Say it."

"Yuuri-"

"_Say it_."

He paused, then bowed his head, defeated. Yuuri gave him no choice. "I will marry you, Yuuri."

He had not known, before this moment, that it was possible for a single body to hold so much bitter joy, this much exquisite pain.

"Then know that however many lifetimes it takes, I will wait for you. I will always be waiting", Yuuri told him softly. "Now go."

Conrart obeyed. He did not look at Yuuri again – did not dare even one more glance behind him, lest his resolve turn to dust at the look upon Yuuri's face, or at the tears that finally began to course down his cheeks as he crumpled to the ground. The wrenching sobs cut through the silence, each more helpless than the last.

And with each step further away Conrart took, he felt his heart break a little more.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	13. Chapter XIII: Blood

Conrart rode out of the city amidst a hail of blue flowers.

His men made two silent, grimly expressionless lines behind him, eyes staring straight ahead. Conrart thought they must have painted a shabby picture, in battle armour that was plainly old and worn, and with weapons as scarred as some of their bodies. They were a motley group, almost laughably mismatched, but for one similarity; young or old, newly trained or seasoned veteran, all were half-humans determined to prove their innocence and loyalty.

But for all their courage, the streets were utterly deserted in the reddish light of the sinking sun. Every door was firmly closed, every window shuttered. Not for them any sweethearts bravely smiling to ease their passage into the darkness, nor any waving children to see them off. Not a single soul to wish them speed as they rode away to fight for the only home they had ever known – and one that condemned them to death regardless. It was as though a pall of shame lay over the town, though Conrart knew the shame should not have been theirs to bear.

Then something brushed past Conrart's cheek. A flash of blue out of the corner of his vision. He glanced down just in time to see a single flower floating to the ground, and then heard Josak call his name.

"Look up", Josak said in a low voice, and a moment later, he heard the men – _his_ men, Conrart thought bleakly – break into a quiet murmuring.

The sky was suddenly full of them. Like an offering from above, they tumbled softly through the air, twining on the faint breeze and landing in their hair, atop their horses' saddles, on the ground in front and behind them. Everywhere he turned, petals like the gentlest of summer rain. A wordless message: _Conrad stands upon the earth_.

Yuuri was nowhere to be seen – he must have thrown the flowers from the very top of one of the surrounding towers, the soldier thought – but he knew it must have been him. Conrart gazed unblinkingly at the sight, aware that it would probably be the last thing of beauty he would witness. He wanted to store it up for later, to see it just once more in his mind before the end.

And so they rode onwards, each man continuing to think their own private thoughts, but comforted by the fact that there existed at least one person who still cared for them. They were not alone.

Conrart would remember this when darkness fell and his division rode steadily through the night. He would remember it when he sat waiting, sleepless, for dawn – the last dawn. He would remember it when he spoke to Josak and the rest of the men who stood by him, his voice quiet but carrying clearly into the morning. He would remember it when he drew his sword.

But after that moment, Conrart remembered very little.

War was not clean, or honourable, or dignified. War did not care for flowers.

He heard things and saw things and even tasted things; horses screaming shrilly until they died, eyes rolling in the backs of their heads, and the sun glinting off weapons of merciless steel, and swallowing past the blood in his mouth. His sword became a part of him – he _was_ his sword, and they were slashing and snarling and burning and howling as one, hot and fierce enough that for some time, none of his own men dared come near him. After a while, Conrart was not capable of telling them apart anyway, because there was a red fog over everything and there was no distinguishing between anyone else's cries from his own. He was aware his own mouth was open, and recognised somewhere at the back of his mind that the inhuman roar probably belonged to him, but these details held only an abstract meaning. He thought someone was calling his name – probably Josak – but he paid it no heed, shaking his head to clear the blood from his right eye. Someone had managed to cut him, he realised vaguely, and lifted his sword again to cleave open the man who had done so. The enemy died at his feet, a look of stark horror on his face, as if it was Conrart he feared more than death itself.

He was engulfed in flames. Conrart had thought his anger burnt out, his wrath and ferocity assuaged because of Yuuri. He had thought wrongly. The veil that had been hanging over him for the past weeks, thick and heavy, had only been keeping it hidden. Now that Conrart had thrown the veil from him, his fury was more savage than ever, and he allowed it to consume him because he did not think he had anything else left to give. Very well – he would give it all, then, until there was no more life within him to fuel the rage. The pain was not enough to stop it, and neither were the bodies falling like wheat around him, or the sound of his name being shouted again.

Not until the agony of his left arm penetrated the haze surrounding him did Conrart slow. He hesitated, caught a glimpse of an orange-haired man felling the one who had cut him, then stumbled and fell himself. Red pooled around him instantly, soaking into his hair.

"Get up", said the orange-haired man urgently. "Conrad, get up!"

Conrart groaned something – he knew not what – and the man hauled him from the ground, thankfully by the right arm. "You're heavy", he grunted.

"Jo…sak…" That was the man's name, Conrart remembered. Not an enemy. That was good, since Conrart didn't think he would have had the strength to free himself otherwise.

"We're getting out of here."

Conrart blinked. His mind moved sluggishly, and his legs could not keep up with Josak's stride. He tried to pass his free hand over his face, but the movement was too much, and he gave a hoarse groan before lurching over, almost bringing Josak down with him. The jolt was enough to make him gasp and the world blacken for an instant. He gagged and retched, his fingers digging into bare earth.

"No you don't", Josak said angrily, and jerked him back up again. "I'm getting us away if I have to drag you all the way back to Shin Makoku myself. Now get _up_, damn you!"

Conrart didn't know how, or why, but he obeyed. Josak was supporting nearly all of his weight, and now he could taste vomit as well as blood, but step by step, they were leaving the battlefield behind them.

But with every inch of ground they covered Conrart felt his body growing heavier. The sun beat pitilessly down, and he panted. He spared a brief glance for his left arm, hanging uselessly at his side, and wondered if he was only imagining that he could see a part of the bone protruding from the grisly mess of torn muscle and severed tissue. His right eye was growing dark again, although he wasn't sure if it was swollen shut or merely congested with fluid. He tried to speak when his other eye began to fail him too, but could only manage some kind of garbled cry before the earth itself rolled from under him.

He only wished he could have said goodbye to Yuuri one last time.

* * *

_Conrad… Conrad, wake up, love. If you can hear me, open your eyes and look at me. I'm right here, so come back to me… Come back…_

But where was 'here', and was Conrart able to find it? For a moment he struggled, sure that it was an impossible task, but something about the voice gnawed at him until his body had time to remember that it hurt. The pain shot through him, making him convulse. His eyes snapped open.

Yuuri was a figure dressed in red and white. No, Conrart corrected himself quickly, just in white. But his healer's uniform was splattered with crimson, and Conrart moved his mouth, trying to form the question. "A…re you… hu…rt…"

"It's not my blood." Yuuri's own eyes stood out against the rest of his face, wide and dark like he was in shock. Conrart would have touched him if he could have, but Yuuri held him down. "Don't move", he instructed shakily. "I have to stop the bleeding, you'll only make it worse."

Conrart immediately knew this to be a lost cause. "Don…'t. J…ust talk. Want to he…ar. Your voi…ce", he managed, and Yuuri gave the ghost of a smile.

"You may listen to me to your heart's desire, later. For now, I have to heal you, which means no talking I'm afraid."

"Yuuri, stop!" Gisela's voice was like the crack of a whip, sharp and commanding. Conrart had not even noticed her until now. He wondered vaguely who else was nearby, and how much time had passed – hours? Days? – but then abandoned the thought, caring for nothing but Yuuri. "I don't need to tell you what will happen if you do this!" the other healer continued.

"I can do it, Gisela."

Yuuri held firm against the sound, but Gisela would have none of it. "I do not doubt your skills or your resolve, but there are some things beyond even the most powerful of abilities."

"This is not beyond mine", Yuuri argued.

"We're still in human territory, you're being foolish!"

Conrart did not think he had ever heard Yuuri shout in anger before. "And you're wasting me precious time! I said I can do it, now leave us alone!"

"And I'm telling you, you can't! Against my advice, you've already exhausted your body to the point of doing it real damage, now stop-"

"-I said _leave_!"

"Conrart would not want you to die!"

There was a ringing silence. With an effort, Conrart kept his eyes open as Yuuri turned to look at him again. He didn't say a word, but his face was asking Conrart a question, and slowly, Conrart moved his head to the side – once, twice. _No_.

"D…on't… die…"

"I won't", Yuuri pleaded, and Conrart smiled.

"Then… sa…y… goo…dby…e…"

"Please don't leave me", whispered Yuuri.

"Ti…me…"

"No!"

Had Conrart ever known a more stubborn man? He made himself stare past Yuuri, at a slight figure he assumed to be Gisela, and hoped she could read on his features what he wanted to say. He had no breath of his own left to speak it.

"Yuuri. Conrart is right. It is time. There is nothing you, or anyone else, can do for him now. Let him have his peace." When Yuuri didn't move, Gisela took him by the hand and made to pull him gently away.

Yuuri shook her off. "Leave us alone", he whispered again.

"Yuuri-"

"-I want to say goodbye to him in private! Please… just go."

Gisela looked as if she might argue, but Conrart made some kind of noise – he didn't hear what, but it was the only sound he was capable of making – and watched Gisela slowly release Yuuri's hand.

"I'll be waiting outside", she said softly, and left.

And then there was only Yuuri, gazing down at Conrart like he was about to cry. Conrart wished he had the strength to stroke Yuuri's face.

"I don't want you to die", Yuuri said, and his voice quivered and cracked.

"…Rea…dy…" He couldn't tell how he forced the word out, the blood bubbling from between his lips. But the pain was fading at least, his arm gone nearly completely numb. He thought the sodden bandage might be the only thing still attaching it to his body, and was glad Yuuri wasn't looking at it now.

"I'm not", he replied, and Conrart had to think for a moment before he could ascribe a meaning to the words, or recollect what they had been in answer to. "I'm not ready, Conrad!" Yuuri's hand tangled in the strands of his blood-crusted hair, the other balled into a fist by his side.

He remained that way for a time, wordlessly stroking him, and Conrart dutifully watched. He didn't want to stop until the very last second, though he could feel the warm darkness preparing to close in on him.

Gradually, the tension leaked from Yuuri's slender form until he stopped shaking, his expression bereft of anger. He leaned down, heedless of the filth or the smell – sweat and vomit and rotting flesh – and kissed Conrart, unflinching and loving, as though he thought there was no handsomer man in all the world. Then he bent his head a little lower, so that his mouth was close to Conrart's ear.

"Close your eyes", he murmured. "Just for a while, I promise."

If he went to sleep then he wouldn't wake up again, Conrart thought fuzzily. But the darkness was pulling at him now, softly but insistent.

"That's right. Didn't I say I would wait for you? I can wait a little longer."

Conrart frowned a little. A lifetime was a long time to wait – too long. Yuuri shouldn't have to do so on his account; Yuuri should live and be happy and love someone who was still alive to love him back.

"It's alright. You can let go now, if you like. Go to sleep."

Sleep was inevitable, whether Conrart wished it or no. He felt himself relax, giving in to the tides and being slowly swept away. It wasn't cold. The water welcomed him, like easing into a pleasantly heated bath after a long day. It would ease his aching body, make him clean again. That was good.

_I love you._

It was enough to know it.

Conrart's eyes slipped closed.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	14. Chapter XIV: Sacrifice

**This will be the second to last chapter, so I'd like to take the opportunity now to thank everybody for reading. As always, reviews are love, but even if you don't end up doing so, I really hope you enjoyed the story! Until next time.**

* * *

Conrart was floating.

His body felt cradled, weightless, as though suspended in air or water, or perhaps simply in time. It had no form to it – it merely _was_, and Conrart existed somewhere within it.

This small awareness tickled at him lightly, but did nothing to interrupt Conrart's sense of quiet calm. It was in fact a rather pleasant sensation, if slightly odd, and there seemed no reason to pay it much attention. It felt not unlike hovering between sleep and wakefulness, only with no reason to go either one way or the other. On the contrary, it felt good to just lie there and allow himself to drift, slow and languorous.

After a while, he opened his eyes.

There was no shape to Conrart's surroundings, nor even any colour, but this did not particularly bother him. It did not strike him as being wrong or disconcerting in any way; it was more as though there was no physical thing to be seen other than Conrart himself.

That thought sparked another, and Conrart glanced with a kind of vague curiosity down at his left shoulder. He couldn't think why, but he had expected to see something different about the limb, and was a little surprised that there was not. He raised it, testing it out, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. A certain stiffness to the motion, maybe, but this was possibly because he also had the feeling that he had not moved in a long while. He let his arm fall back to his side, then sat up from where he had been lying to look over the rest of his body.

He was naked, Conrart realised. Like everything else though, this fact did not seem to matter, even if he was sure he had been wearing clothing up until some time ago. However, even that idea was a little blurred around the edges. What type of clothes he had been wearing, and when, and even why exactly he had been wearing them, were insignificant details that might have been from a dream he could not properly recall.

"Or am I dreaming now?" he wondered unconcernedly out loud.

"Yes."

"Yuuri!"

_Here_ was something that could never be forgotten – not after a thousand nights of endless dreaming. Yuuri stood before him, although Conrart could not tell if he had been there all along, or if he had only now appeared in answer to Conrart's question.

"I am glad to see you safe", Conrart smiled. This felt important, although he could think of no reason why Yuuri should not have been so.

"As I am you", Yuuri replied. "I was worried."

"Oh. … Why?" Conrart frowned, trying to remember.

"Don't you know?"

"… No", Conrart admitted after another minute of thought. "Yuuri, why are we here?"

"We are waiting, I think", Yuuri told him. "Both of us are, and so we are able to meet here like this." Seeing that Conrart did not understand him, Yuuri elaborated, "You were hurt, so I healed you. Now time must do the rest."

"I see." He didn't really, but since Yuuri did not seem alarmed or upset, Conrart saw no reason to be either. "I feel fine", he added as an afterthought, lazily casting an eye over himself again. Sure enough, there was not a scratch to be seen.

"Me too", Yuuri said, and Conrart saw how serene Yuuri looked, and how happy. His hair was clean and glossy, his eyes darker and clearer than Conrart had ever seen them. There were no lines of tiredness on his face, no weariness or sorrow reflected in his eyes. In fact, Yuuri appeared almost to glow – as if he had managed to cast off for good all of the things that had ever troubled him, and was now completely at peace.

"You are so beautiful", Conrart murmured, reaching for him, and Yuuri slipped easily into his arms.

"So are you", Yuuri sighed happily, although there was a twinge of wistfulness to his voice. "I wish we could stay like this forever."

Conrart blinked. "Why can't we?"

"Because nothing is forever", Yuuri reminded him. "And something tells me that in a while I must go. Maybe far away from here. To another place, in another time."

At these words, a sudden jolt of foreboding broke through the stillness that had permeated everything up until that point. "Don't leave!" Conrart implored him, and felt a flare of distorted déjà vu that swiftly faded when he tried to chase it. He couldn't make sense of some of what Yuuri had just said, but he knew above all that he did not want Yuuri to leave. If he left… if he went away now… Conrart was not able to finish the thought, but for some reason it filled him with a strong feeling of unease.

"I will not have a choice, my love", Yuuri responded, pressing their foreheads together comfortingly.

He had called Conrart that before, once. Conrart did not know when, but it was another thing that felt strangely important; something that needed to be remembered, and quickly. He paused, thinking hard, attempting to pin down the stray piece of information. Like a missing puzzle piece, Conrart knew it should be there but couldn't quite envision it.

Light and soothing, Yuuri kissed him. "You need not worry about it", he told the older man. "For you, there will be time enough later for that. I know it."

"What about you?", Conrart asked with a rising level of disquiet.

"I'm afraid there may not be much of that left", Yuuri replied a little sadly. "I will have to go very soon, I think."

"No!" Conrart recollected something in a flash of cold, like ice down his back. "_I_ was the one who was supposed to leave!"

"Conrad… I'm sorry."

"Yuuri, no! I can't… you don't have to…"

"It was my choice", Yuuri assured him.

"That's not the point! You were meant to stay! Please, don't do this!"

"It is already done." The cloud that had passed briefly over Yuuri's face at Conrart's pleas lifted, and the return of his serene smile was like the sun coming out. "Conrad, you need to know that there is nothing I would have done differently. I don't regret a thing – not then, and not now. This is the path I chose for myself. Whatever happens, whatever… anger, or guilt you may feel, you must remember that. Promise me that you will."

"No… it wasn't meant to happen this way…" Conrart gripped Yuuri's shoulders, afraid to lose him.

"Perhaps it was." Yuuri gazed at him, his expression now radiant. "I have waited all my life to feel like this, but never once believed that it could ever come to pass. Not for me. The sacrifice was necessary, in the end – I truly believe that, Conrad."

"I don't know what you mean", Conrart said, his face and voice imploring. "Yuuri, I… I don't want this! Can't we at least go together?"

Yuuri shook his head. "It is impossible now", he said gently.

"I love you!" Conrart hugged Yuuri to him, unwilling to let go, but Yuuri… something was happening. He was diminishing, growing lighter and more insubstantial in Conrart's arms by the second, and no matter how Conrart tried to keep him there, Yuuri kept slipping away from him.

"Yuuri… no, please no, don't…"

"Conrad. It's okay", Yuuri said, and pressed his lips to Conrart's once more, soft and sweet. That kiss utterly disarmed him – it always had. Conrart let his arms fall to his sides, defeated, and watched helplessly as Yuuri begin to vanish before his very eyes. He felt the tears well up, but Yuuri saw them and shook his head again.

"Don't cry, Conrad. Don't be sad – not now. We will meet again – of that I am certain."

"How could I not be sad?" Conrart whispered.

"Because nothing lasts forever, remember? Not even death. Don't you see?"

Yuuri was barely visible now, a rapidly fading shape in the perfect nothingness surrounding them, but his last smile was joyous, contented, as he closed his eyes.

"I am finally free."

* * *

Conrart awoke to the sound of the rain. It drummed around him in a distantly lilting rhythm.

He lay still with his eyes closed for a few long moments, gathering the shreds of his awareness and weaving them back together until he could make sense of things: his body felt heavy and lethargic, but largely painless; he was lying on his back beneath something soft and warm; there was somebody sitting near him, quietly weeping.

Conrart was certain he had just emerged from a dream, although it was already fading from memory and he could no longer remember anything but the fuzziest of details. Yuuri had been there, and they had spoken together… but beyond this, Conrart had little recollection, although there was something about it that felt strangely compelling even now.

Silently, he opened his eyes.

It was either very late or very early; there was no sunlight to filter into the room, and outside, all sounded hushed. The dark shape by his bedside blurred, Conrart's vision adjusting to the shadowy dimness of the candlelit chamber until he could eventually make out the figure of his mother. She was bent over so that her head rested in her hands, her golden hair loose and cascading over her shoulders like finely spun gold. The queen cried softly, almost inaudibly, and Conrart wondered if her tears were born of sorrow or of relief, and if he was the cause of them.

Instinctively, still blinking off the vestiges of deep sleep, he reached out a hand to touch her. "Don't cry, mother", he said, his voice a little husky, and she startled and gasped, lifting her head to stare at him, the droplets still clinging to her eyelashes.

"Conrart!"

Without waiting for him to say anything more, Cheri threw her arms around him, pressing her son to her as though he was still a small boy. Conrart found he did not mind. He stayed where he was and allowed her to cry into his hair, clinging to him, until she eventually managed to collect herself a little and released him of her own accord.

He looked at her then, intending to apologise. "Mother, I'm sor-"

"-I was so worried!", Cheri burst out, sniffing. "You lay so still for days, and even though Gisela said you would be fine, I thought... oh Conrart, I thought..." She trailed off, unable to finish, and Conrart took proper stock of the room as his mother blinked hard and sat up straighter, wiping her eyes. He was back in Blood Pledge Castle, he realised. The bedchamber was his own, and they were alone.

"I'm alive", he confirmed quietly, not really understanding why he said it but somehow surprised by the knowledge. He didn't know why, but he had not expected to see this place again, or his mother, or anything at all for that matter, not even-

"-Yuuri!" Conrart shot up with a gasp. "Where is Yuuri?" He glanced around wildly, as though the room itself would give him the answer he sought.

"Conrart..."

"Where is he?" he asked again, and his heart was thumping so hard that all the air was being driven from his chest.

"In another room, with Gisela. But he... Conrart, I'm so sorry, he's not..."

"... Is he dead?"

The question was not really a question. For Conrart remembered now – remembered Yuuri looking down on him, on Conrart's bleeding, broken form, and being told by Gisela that saving him was impossible. But Yuuri... he had somehow done it anyway. Heedless of what Gisela had told him, ignoring her warnings, Conrart was completely healed, and Yuuri must have exhausted every spark of his abilities, even though Conrart had said goodbye. Conrart was here, which could only mean that Yuuri...

… _Yuuri could not be. _

This awareness hit him with the force of a flood, and he struggled to breathe through it, making himself complete the thought:

For Conrart's sake, Yuuri had sacrificed himself, even though Conrart had been prepared to die.

He inhaled sharply, preparing himself for the words he knew he would hear from his mother's lips, and felt the world around him grow darker.

"He's alive."

The reply was so unexpected that Conrart was not sure he had heard correctly. "He- what?"

"Yuuri is alive", his mother said again. "He is sleeping." But she did not sound happy – was looking at Conrart with both love and pity in her gaze.

"He is... wounded, then?" Conrart asked carefully. "But how?"

"Not wounded", Cheri shook her head. "Gisela says she doesn't know what exactly is wrong – only that he will not, or perhaps cannot, awaken from it."

Conrarts hands clenched. "How long has he been asleep? It's normal for him to be unconscious a while after dealing with a serious injury, I must have been near death when he got to me, there's nothing so unusual about-"

"-Conrart", his mother interrupted gently. "Gisela knows all this – from what I understand, she is the one person here who has known him since childhood. She does not believe that Yuuri will return."

"If he is alive, there must be a reason", Conrart argued desperately. "He wouldn't still be here if... there would be no point in his still being alive if he wasn't going to..."

Tenderly, Cheri placed her hands on top of Conrart's own. Her wrists were thin enough that he could feel every bone as she squeezed his fingers. "I know you care for this man very much", she said, her sadness at Conrart's anguish plain to see. "I wish I could tell you what it is you wish to hear. But I cannot."

Conrart stared down at the coverlet. "I want to see him."

"Oh Conrart, I don't-"

"-I want to see him."

But as he stood next to Yuuri's bed some time later alongside Gisela, looking down at his unmoving form and trying to deny the terrible proof of his mother's words – inwardly begging Yuuri to just open his eyes – Conrart knew that she had spoken nothing but truth. Yuuri was too still, too quiet. It was as if, despite otherwise in apparent perfect health, his soul had flown from him, leaving only its empty shell behind.

"He has been like this since we found him, collapsed beside you", Gisela told him softly.

"Tell me."

The healer looked at him in much the same way as his mother had. "Conrart, this isn't-"

"-Please." He had to know.

"… I came back to check on Yuuri when he did not emerge after several minutes. He was pressed closely against you, his arms wrapped around your body. Both of you were unconscious."

"Why didn't you stop him?" Conrart asked hollowly.

Gisela sighed. "If it had been possible, I would have. But in doing so, I would have killed both of you. You were already dying, and like cutting a cord, severing Yuuri's connection with you would have resulted in his death as well. I dared not separate you."

"I see."

But Conrart didn't. It seemed utterly pointless, to have Yuuri miraculously live through that only to be dead in all but name. He did indeed appear perfect to Conrart – his skin as smooth as marble but a healthy pink, his face completely relaxed – but Gisela did not need to tell Conrart that for each second that ticked by, every moment Yuuri slept on, it became less and less likely he would eventually awaken. For every breath taken, Yuuri would fade away from them a little more, weakening until he would finally breathe his last. Pointless, and unimaginably cruel.

"There's nothing you can do?"

But Conrart already knew the answer before Gisela opened her mouth. If there was any way of waking Yuuri, she would certainly already have done so.

"There's something different about him, however", the slight woman added to this, frowning.

"In what way?"

"I don't know – I can just feel it. It's not a physical wound, nor any illness. It's nothing that could even be defined in terms of good or bad. But Yuuri's energy, his... spirit, I suppose, is somehow changed." But Gisela was unable to offer any more than this, and in the quiet that followed, Conrart reached up to silently unclasp the pendent Yuuri had given him, and fasten it gently back about Yuuri's neck.

The sun rose, and the time gradually passed. Conrart refused to leave Yuuri's side that day, or in the days that followed, save for when he had to. He occasionally had company; several times, Cheri came to sit with Conrart to offer her compassionate support, as did a still recovering Josak, his head bandaged and one of his arms wrapped in a sling. Neither Conrart's mother nor Josak spoke much, for which Conrart was grateful; though in many ways he was glad of their company, he did not have the heart to talk. Once, to his initial surprise, even Gunter von Christ paid a visit, and Conrart found he did not mind as much as he would have thought. Not by a single glance did Lord von Christ signal any disapproval towards Conrart, leaving him to wonder exactly what the instructor's feelings were regarding the soldier's relationship with Yuuri. Gisela, too, continued to be a regular visitor, although she could do little to help, and her steady stream of other patients meant that she could never stay long. The war, it seemed, was finally ending.

This knowledge should have been momentous – the entire country was no doubt abuzz with it – yet as callous as it felt, Conrart could not bring himself to care. In the face of so many lives lost, and of Yuuri slipping further and further away from him with every passing moment, Shin Makoku's so-called victory only left Conrart with a gaping emptiness.

"Are you angry with me?" Conrart asked Gisela once.

Gisela had no need of asking what Conrart meant. "No. For better or worse, this is the path Yuuri chose. I cannot blame you for it." At Conrart's bitter smile, she gave him a frank look. "You should not blame yourself either. Whatever happens, you must not let guilt darken your own path ahead. Yuuri has given you your life – do not squander it."

The sun set, and rose, and set again, and Conrart stopped counting the days as they passed. But through it all, it continued to rain – a light but steady downpour that had not let up when his mother came to find him.

Conrart had gone outside earlier, at Cheri's firm insistence, for some fresh air. Incapable of resting, he merely stood, a solitary figure in a grey world that itself seemed to be waiting for something. Alone in the courtyard under the shelter of an overhang, staring blankly out at the garden his mother had planted, Conrart heard the footsteps and turned towards her.

"Mother, I... what is it? Is it Yuuri?" he asked immediately, seeing her expression.

She nodded, and gripped him by the arm as he made to dash past her. "Conrart, wait! Please listen to me a moment. Gisela is with him now. Your young man, it seems, is finally awake, but... Gisela won't say, but something is not as it should be. She has asked for nobody to disturb her while she checks over him – no, not even you", she said as Conrart made to interrupt. "Conrart... she sounded serious. Whatever it is, my son, whatever has happened..."

Cheri let go at the look on Conrart's face, and he ran past her without enquiring further. He didn't care. Yuuri was awake. _Yuuri was awake_. Nothing in the world could possibly be of more importance than this – nothing.

The door to Yuuri's chamber was shut, and it was torture for Conrart to stand there, employing every shred of restraint in his possession just to wait. Soon he was pacing, restless and unable to be still despite his efforts. He heard Gisela murmur something and – his heart beat painfully fast at the sound – Yuuri say something in return, although he could make out none of the words.

It could have been hours before the door finally cracked open. Gisela did not look surprised to find Conrart standing there, his normally reserved expression plainly showing his need to see Yuuri again.

But Gisela would not let him enter right away. She blocked the door for a moment, gazing up at him, her face carefully blank. "You can go in, but- Conrart, just listen to me first. Yuuri is… he is himself, but things cannot be exactly as they were-"

"-It does not matter", Conrart interrupted.

"It will to him", Gisela warned him, but Conrart was already brushing past her as she stepped aside, allowing him into the room. Hands trembling, he closed the door again behind him and approached the bed.

Yuuri was sitting up, his knees drawn into his chest. He was staring out the window, and his head turned slightly at the sound of Conrart entering, although most of his face remained hidden.

"Yuuri..." Conrart could not stop shaking. "I'm so glad... so glad..." It was too difficult to say anything more than this. Almost dizzy with relief, he fell to his knees beside the bed, fighting to keep himself from laughing, or crying, or clutching Yuuri to him without another instant's thought.

He might have done all these things, had Conrart had not quickly realised that something was very wrong. Because for all his joy at seeing Yuuri alive and well, the double-black still would not look at him properly, and although Yuuri appeared composed enough, he was holding himself stiffly. Something was making him tense, distressed in some way, and Conrart hesitated, wanting to reach out to him but suddenly unsure of what Yuuri's reaction would be.

"Yuuri, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Mutely, Yuuri shook his head.

"Are you sure? You seem..." 'Distant', Conrart wanted to say, but after a long period of silence, Yuuri finished the sentence for him.

"... Different."

It was a relief, at least, to at hear Yuuri speak. "What can I do? Please, tell me", Conrart begged.

"Nothing. There's nothing you can do." Yuuri was usually easy enough to read, but Conrart could not pinpoint the emotion behind his tone now, and this more than anything else filled him with discomfort.

"… Are you angry with me?" he asked, dreading the reply.

"_No_!" Yuuri's reaction was instantaneous. "Never", he continued more calmly, and Conrart knew Yuuri spoke from his heart. "I would never blame you, Conrad. This is my doing, and mine alone."

Never blame him for what? Yuuri was scaring him now. "What is it?" Conrart asked urgently.

"I... Conrad, promise me you won't..." He didn't seem capable of finishing, and would still not turn towards Conrart.

Not knowing what else to do, Conrart gave in to the impulse to touch, brushing his fingers against the younger man's face. "Yuuri, please, look at me", Conrart pleaded. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I…Conrad, I…" Conrart's hand closed around Yuuri's, and slowly, so very slowly, Yuuri turned towards him.

But something still wasn't right – Yuuri was looking at Conrart, yet at the same time was not looking at him at all. His eyes were pointed towards the soldier's, but they also stared straight past him – _through_ him – like Conrart wasn't even there. As though he...

"No", Conrart whispered as the truth dawned on him. "No, oh no, Yuuri-" Those orbs were as dark and as beautiful as ever, and yet... and yet...

"-I'm sorry Conrad, I'm so sorry", said Yuuri, and his voice caught on the words as he apologised, over and over again, asking frantically for Conrart's forgiveness, until Conrart finally gave up on speaking and simply pulled Yuuri in close, stroking his hair and waiting for Yuuri to tell him what he now already knew.

The words, when they came, were spoken so softly as to nearly be inaudible.

"I can't see."

Conrart's arms only tightened about him in response, as outside, the rain finally stopped.

* * *

**To be continued.**


End file.
